It Happened At A Peace Conference
by Mashpotatoe Queen
Summary: Francis, carefully plucking around the demolished debris, helping a rambling elderly woman to safety even as he kept a keen eye out for other citizens, wished that explosions would be easier to clean up. That they were less violent and less loud and that people would stop being stupid enough to set them off. It happened at a peace conference...
1. The Peace Conference

**Greetings! Greetings! I have returned! This fic was written on a request by Shiranai Astune.**

 **(Well... actually she/he gave me this really super cool story idea that revolved around some of these incredible OC's she/he made and I felt I wasn't able to do it so we agreed that I would write something a little different instead. Still, if you're looking for a super cool OC story to write, go ask him/her!)**

 **Anyways... it was supposed to be Torunn/Francis fic, and I did try. However, as I am not a romance fan and this plot bunny stole me, it turned out more action based than loveydovey based... I hope you like it anyways, Shiranai!**

 **PLEASE NOTE! The ages of this fic are a bit messed up. I've made Pym a bit younger, at least.**

 **So yeah... Enjoy!**

 **...**

Ash was falling from the sky. Small little of specks of grey, coating everyone's lungs and getting into their eyes and noses and mouths and hair. The sky was an ominous grey, dark thunder clouds rolling across the horizon and chasing the wind. Smoke swirled all around them, and the occasional cry of pain echoed throughout the demolished rubble that had once been a building.

All around them, people were starting to get onto their feet, soft mutterings starting to muddle the gloomy atmosphere, replacing the ringing in his ears.

Francis, carefully plucking around the demolished debris and helping a rambling elderly woman to safety even as he kept a keen eye out for other citizens, wished that explosions would be easier to clean up. That they were less violent and less loud and that people would stop being stupid enough to _set them off_.

It had been a peace conference.

All the Avengers had been hesitant to go- the idea of being crammed into ill-fitting suits and forced to sit on their best behavior for hours on end as they chatted meaninglessly to old harrumphing adults (who didn't believe in their capability to do anything) not sounding pleasant at all- but Tony had offered some remarks about the public needing to recognize that there were heroes now... and they had reluctantly agreed.

It was almost worth it, seeing Pym's slightly terrified and highly disgruntled look as Tony showed him the absolute garish outfit he was supposed to be wearing.

Unfortunately, before the big day all the outfits mysteriously disappeared, vanished from sight as if by magic.

Francis had _no_ idea where they could be. Not one. In fact he was rather…. Disappointed when his own horribly ugly, inflexible, unmoving material vanished without a trace…..

Really, it was a shame…..

Depressing.

He was _SO_ disappointed….

(He really needed to work on his innocent look, because Pym had given him a hug as soon as they were out of the line of sight of the grown ups the day the clothes magically disappeared.)

(...Not that he was related to that incident in any shape, way, or form.)

They had ended up going to the event in their own usual dress, which Francis was incredibly relieved about. Tony and James had sat together, arguing fiercely about the topic for over ten minutes. The conversation had ended when the new Captain America had stated that the public should be able to recognize them in their costumes, because that was how they would most likely see them all the time.

The elder man had reluctantly agreed.

They had flown across the ocean, and then Tony had somehow managed to get them a ride- some sort of old fashioned car- and Francis had found himself gripping the seat handles with clenched fists at the unfamiliar and unsettling motion of being in an enclosed, rolling space.

Flying ships were one thing, cars were quite another.

Judging by the other's panicked, confused, and slightly green faces, he wasn't alone with his judgements.

When they arrived at the old, towering skyscraper- in London, of all places- they had stepped out of the car only to be met with a series of brilliantly flashing lights and screaming voices. Francis had converted to Hawkeye in seconds- his mind filled with the sounds of gunfire and the idea of a surprise attack- and his hand halfway to his bow before Tony set a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Reporters," the man had muttered.

Francis had blinked, glanced around more closely at the scene, seeing the hundreds of unfamiliar faces staring back at him and the clicks and flashes of hundreds of unfamiliar cameras being directed directly at him. The screams were not ones of terror of challenge, but questions.

Aware of himself once more, he took a deep breath, suppressed a blush at his little mix up, and straightened his shoulders. He then walked down the red carpet- which was slightly tattered and faded from old age- refusing to look to either side and staying focused on safety, the large ornate, if not slightly chipped, door in front of him.

His reaction was far better than some of the others, though, which was something to be proud at.

Azari had lept into a defensive stance, tattoos starting to spark up before he realized that, no, there was no enemy, and managed to calm himself down.

Torunn had actually managed to draw her sword and was halfway through her first swing before James had managed to block the attack and swiftly push her towards the door.

Well, no one could _really_ push Torunn. She was too strong and amazing and beauti- she was too strong. Godly blood and all that. Then again… Francis wasn't so sure that James didn't have a bit of super soldier serum after all; he was certainly _strong_ enough….

Either way, James got Torunn pass the press and into the door, the red-head's only reaction being a sudden tensing of every muscle in his body. (Lucky.)

Pym's reaction had probably been the worst of all. He had physically yelped and jumped into the air. Francis was ninety percent sure that the kid would have changed form and hid in James' hair had Tony not managed to grab his hand and pull him slightly behind him. Pym had gripped Tony's hand in a vice grip the entire way up the carpet.

(Hiding in James' hair was a strange habit that the raven haired kid did whenever particularly startled or upset. Francis had asked _one_ time about it; James had simply shrugged and said that it was just one of those Pym things. Francis was prone to agree with him.)

All in all, walking up the few measly meters of carpet had not been the best of experiences.

Tony had sighed at the slightly shaking teens- and one ten year old- who were flashing him seriously disgruntled looks. They had been warned, of course, that the reporters were restless. They had been told that there would be flashing lights and loud sounds. It didn't make the experience any less unsettling.

After several deep breaths and the painting of forced smiles, they entered the main hall of the building. The receptionist, upon seeing them, hastily opened up the elevator for them, giving them a card so that they could access the top floor.

The whole way up, some of the worst, most boring music that Francis had ever heard played tonelessly in the background, which was really saying something considering he had sat through several music nights with the Rebels….

Where it just so happened the only singer and musician was deaf, and was sadly as untalented as a potato.

By the time they got to the top, Francis was just about ready to tear his own hair out. He managed to refrain, sharing long suffering looks with Torunn and the others even as Tony quietly reminded them to be on their best behaviour.

The elevator opened.

They were greeted by dozens of older men and women, every single one of them looking like they had never battled once in their entire lives. They were all dressed heavily in bulky, rich clothing that could have been used to provide warmth for entire families, and their hair was plastered into place the same way their overly polite smiles were. They wore finery, all over their necks and arms, and Francis felt a rising anger in his stomach as he thought of all the people those silly rings and necklaces and chains could have fed.

The adults had greeted them, thanked them for their hard work and efforts, and offered them many different awards for their services. Francis would have felt proud about it if not for the fact that each and every word was _just_ this side of condescending and mocking, as if they were little babies.

They all sat down, then, at a large round table that curved upwards. He couldn't help but feel even angrier when he realized that the adults had placed them at the bottom of the table, as if the Avengers were somehow _below_ them.

And then the questions- the mocking, hinting at uselessness questions- started.

His teeth began to grind together, and he had to physically stop himself from idly reaching out and start polishing his bow; usually the threat of a weapon made people less annoying. He was sure that any word that came out of his mouth would escape as a sarcastic drawl, so he kept it closed in a thin line. More than once he had to reach out and grab Torunn's hand and give it a quick squeeze, the murderous expression on her face warning him that she was a hair away from attacking.

Something told him that any word that came out of _her_ mouth would come out in a scream.

Azari looked highly frustrated, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to say something scathing but didn't actually want to be rude. Pym simply looked confused, as if trying to process why on earth the older people would be mocking them. Sitting slightly higher up- and looking rather angry about it- was Tony, too far away to help.

Which left James- hot-headed, emotion driven James- to answer the questions.

Despite everyone's doubts, the teen was actually very, very good at it.

"So… Avengers? What have you been doing so far?"

"We've been cleaning up Ultron City, Sir, as well as occasionally the rest of the world. Over a thousand people get relocated every day and we're tearing down the rogue robots and rebuilding buildings so that they can be habitable for humans."

"There are still robots? Even after a month?"

"Ultron City, just in case you didn't know, Sir, was Ultron's _main base_. There were tens of thousands of robots. And there are, if you didn't notice, only six of us, and as the National War Office- you and your members, Sir- haven't deigned to come in and help save people's liv-"

"You keep referring to New York as Ultron City. Is that because you think that Ultron had a justification in ruling it?"

"It's Ultron City until we can get rid of every last sign of Ultron, Mam. Then it can be New York again, which would happen a lot faster if you would just send in some troops-"

The head officer spoke up after several minutes of intense back and forth, the adults harshly questioning every little motive and action the Avengers had ever done and James repeatedly rebuffing them and subtly hinting that they should take action. The man, potbelly and all, had the _gall_ to look James in the eyes and tell them all that their status as children meant they was useless to the effort.

"Well… children. We thank you deeply for your… help, even though it was highly unnecessary. We do have the military for these sort of things... The grown ups shall be taking care of the rest. You may return to your normal lives. Goodbye; everything will be taken care of the adults from now on…. we know about these sort of things."

Francis was this far away from shooting the man- somewhere nonfatal... probably- when James stood up.

And James, head held high and eyes flaring with his _I'm-about-to-make-a-speech-that'll-be-super-important-so-you-better-listen-up_ look, started to speak.

"With all due respect, _Sir_ , it wasn't the military who took down Ultron. It wasn't your War Office at all that did anything in ending this war. It's not you who go out everyday and save everyone they can. It's us. It's the Avengers. You don't have everything sorted. You don't know the first thing about saving anyone, much less outside of your little safe houses you only left because _we_ managed to stop the fighting. The Avengers save people. _We_ save people. We bring hope and we help, which is far more than can be said about any of you. And until everyone's safe, we're going to continue doing so, with your authority or not."

The man, face growing redder and redder, kept trying to interrupt, and Francis kept getting a satisfied feeling every time James steamrolled over him. For the other members of the council, their expressions ranged from guilty to anger.

It was then the building exploded.

There was a loud boom from below, and the entire thing started to shake. James's face morphed from righteousness to concentration. Orders already spewing from his mouth even as he started to activate his shield and the adults who could supposedly handle everything screamed in terror.

"Pym! Get out! You need to support the building for as long as you can!"

The kid, face blanched from shock, nodded determinedly. He started running towards the window, but was thrown to the side as another _BOOM!_ shook the building.

Francis had yelled, managing to shoot an arrow towards the ceiling support above the window just before the floor started slanting to the right. Holding tight, he took a running leap and managed to grab Pym as he started sliding down. With a great heave, he lifted the younger boy up and continued the swing, heading straight to the large, glass window.

"READY!?" he had yelled over the sound of screaming and the ominous grating of metal on metal.

Pym had nodded, and so Francis threw him out the window.

What else were honorary brothers for?

There was a sharp shattering sound, and small shards of glass splattered everywhere.

There was the sound of screaming and the smell of smoke starting to invade his nose. Small cuts had appeared all over his arms, but he paid it no mind. His attention was focused on finding James; body tense in preparation to follow instructions.

It had been a hard transition, going from leader to follower, but Francis had managed.

Even so, He couldn't stop his eyes as they swooped around the room, searching for anyone of his group that could be in trouble.

Azari was hanging on to Torunn's wrist as she floated in the air while James had managed to find himself a lovely ledge to hang onto. Tony had called forth his armour, and was already swooping down to grab citizens and bring them to safety.

 _BOOM!_

The building shuddered, everything that wasn't solidly connected to the floor sliding towards the back of the room, including several adults- Francis would have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious- who wiggled and squirmed like a turtle stuck on it's back.

There was a solid crunching sound and the room suddenly stopped tilting, slightly jerking back towards its original position; Pym had grabbed hold of the building and was keeping it upright, having grown into his larger form.

Based on the kid's grunts of exertion and the loud yelling to, "HURRY UP ALREADY!" Hawkeye doubted he would be able to keep it up for long.

James burst into action.

"We need to get everyone out, _now_! Azari and I will get the lower levels, Francis get the middle levels, and Torunn and Tony, you need to get the higher levels. Ready!? Let's _go_!"

They moved out, dashing throughout the flaming building and grabbing every civilian they saw. Every minute, another explosion would shake the building, and Francis knew that if the bombs kept up, there wouldn't be any building for the straining ten year old to hold at all.

His earpiece had cackled in his ear, startling him slightly as he made his way through one of the corridors, uniform pushed up against his nose; he had heard crying.

"H-keye. Need to get out … bombs wired… can't de...vate them. Big explosion… two minutes…"

He pressed a finger to his ear.

"James? You alright? You keep cutting out!"

Static.

Francis picked up his pace, dashing through the burning halls as wooden doors crumbled to pieces around him. The crying was getting louder.

Two minutes. He had two minutes.

The building suddenly jerked, and Hawkeye was thrown roughly into a wall- bruising his entire side a lovely shade of purple for days and producing a large bump on his temple- before the building once more came to a stop. Pym's harassed, worried voice filtered in his ringing ears, apologizing and saying an explosion had gone off right under his fingers and that he wasn't sure he could hold on for too much longer.

Hawkeye stood up and set off into a run, ignoring the flames flickering around him.

 _One minute left._

He arrived at the door, kicking it down after realizing it was locked. Inside was a young girl, maybe four or five, staring up at him with wide, wide green eyes even as tears streamed down her face.

 _Forty- Eight seconds._

The girl was hiding between a series of fallen shelves, crouched down in the middle of the rubble and far out of the reach of Francis' larger frame, unless he wanted to get burned.

Softly, he crouched down and took off his bow, both to appear as less of a threat and to better meet the girl's eyes. He coughed, blinked the smoke out of his eyes.

"Hi, there. What's your name?"

The girl's lip quivered.

"L-Lacey…"

 _Thirty-Five seconds._

Francis put on his best smile.

"Hey, Lacey, you think you can crawl out of there?"

The girl might have answered, but just then a loud boom filled the room and Francis stumbled as the entire world shifted and shook for a few moments, dimly recognizing Torunn's desperate cries in his ears, demanding that he leave the building _right now_. Lacey screamed, curled into a tighter ball and whimpered, as if hiding her eyes could hide her from the nightmare surrounding her.

They were running out of time.

 _Fifteen seconds._

There wasn't anything for it. Francis cursed and shoved aside the burning wood- hissing at the fiery heat- and scooped up the girl, who screamed once more.

 _Ten seconds._

He dashed to the window, realizing that his bow was nowhere to be found, lost to the falling rubble and crowding smoke.

 _Nine._

"Hey guys? I'm on the twentieth floor, south side…. I might need some backup."

 _Eight._

He curled around the girl and ducked low, turning slightly to the side.

 _Seven._

He made contact with the glass, shattering it in a series of sparkling splinters.

 _Six._

He was free falling, the air rushing against his skin. He pressed his cheek against the girl's soft black hair, clenching his eyes tight, maneuvering himself in the air so that he would land first, on his back; it wasn't much, but it could possibly be enough to save Lacey.

 _Five._

Abruptly, his fall was jerked to a halt by a rough pull on his arm pits, and he started rushing through the air horizontal to the ground. He looked up, unable to help the smile that blossomed on his face the sight of Torunn, her face set in a determined expression as they flew at break neck speeds.

 _Four._

Lacey was screaming, and Francis wanted to reassure her, wanted to tell her that they were safe now, that everything was going to be okay, but he didn't think he could yell over the roaring wind.

 _Three._

But they were going to be fine. Everything was going to turn out just _fine._

 _Two._

He hoped.

 _One._

There was a moment of silence in Francis' mind as he held his breath, and then the building exploded in a cacophony of fire. The resounding boom left his ears ringing and his vision fuzzy. Rubble went flying through the air, raining down on the world below as smoke heaved itself through the sky, clouding the world with a thick smog.

The shock wave sent Torunn careening in thin air, and they crashed heavily into an abandoned building. Francis made sure to curl around Lacey to protect her, even though his entire body protested at the movement... it protested especially as he slid several feet when Torunn accidentally let go of him upon impact.

Francis flopped on his back, placing a reassuring arm around the young girl who was curled on his stomach. She didn't seem hurt, there was that, at least… He tilted his head slightly, locating Torunn, who was lying down on her back opposite of him, breathing heavily.

She spotted him looking at her and managed a smile.

She looked beautiful…. dirt, ash, rubble and all… she looked beautiful.

"You okay?"

Her face was a tad concerned, probably because he was smiling dopily at her and that was highly unusual behavior, but he answered anyways. His voice sounded more like a dying frog than human, probably because of all the ash, but he would take a croaky voice over being dead.

"As well as I can be… surviving massive explosions and all that. You?"

"I am fine."

She laughed, sounding rather exhausted, and pulled herself up. She then reached down and grabbed Francis, helping him to his own feet. She brushed back the wisps of hair that had escaped her braid and pressed a quick peck on his cheek, which most definitely did _not_ make him blush, and then placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon, soldier, we have some heroing to do."

And Francis, unable to stop the stupid grin bubbling on his face, shifted Lacey- who had stopped crying and was looking up at the two of them with wide, amazed eyes- a bit in his arms, and nodded.

"Let's go."

* * *

That had been several hours ago.

They had managed to save most of the citizens, although the building was beyond repair and the actual casualty list had yet to be determined. Francis' heart hurt at the thought of all the people who had died because he wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough.

The explosions had been set to sabotage the Avengers; the bombs were _supposed_ to have gone off all at once, but they had not been wired correctly and instead went off in the weird stagnated way that they did.

The criminals had failed in their objective, though; no Avenger was killed.

Torunn and Tony had escaped with the least amount of injuries. Torunn only receiving a few small cuts and a slightly twisted ankle from where she had had to wrench it out a fallen beam. Tony had had his left arm heavily bruised from falling debris, although most of his time had been spent ferrying people to the safety zone far away from the building.

Azari had a large concussion and minor burns all over his arms, as well as severe smoke inhalation. He was currently in one of the med centers, breathing through an oxygen mask.

Pym had severe burns all over his hands and arms, and dozens of bloody gashes all over his front where large pieces of rubble and huge slabs of concrete had pierced his skin due to his close proximity to the building when it finally blew, which he had been stubbornly holding up till the last possible moment. The kid was so bandaged he looked more of a mummy than actually human, but his cheer was still up, and so Francis was sure he would make a full recovery.

James was unconscious, a severe blow to the head leaving him with a bad concussion. Luckily, Tony had managed to get him out of the burning building before the final explosion, his suit able to track the red head's broken transmitter. The medic had said he would make a full recovery, but every one of the Avengers felt worry for their leader.

Francis himself had gotten away with a minor concussion, severely bruised sides, and burns on his hands. He had insisted he should help out with the clean up efforts anyways, and Torunn had been quick to volunteer as well.

Tony had stayed behind at their assistance; he was to be their eyes, and the moment either Azari or James woke up they were to be called.

As Francis made his slow way through the debris, occasionally helping the elderly woman over a particularly large piece of rubble, he couldn't help but feel beyond exhausted and more than a little angry.

Ultron was dead. The world was supposed to be at peace. He and his family were never supposed to have to go through any sort of life-threatening danger ever again.

 _(So much for that.)_

But as he spotted Torunn flying overhead, carrying a very disgruntled council member by the back of his shirt, he still waved.

And when Torunn waved back, offering her own wave a smile, Francis felt the anger leave him. They were alive. They were okay.

Everything was going to be just fine.

 **...**

 **Soooo? What do ya think? Any questions/comments/advice/requests? Anything you have to say I would love to hear! :3**

 **Super HUGE THANK YOU to any reviewers/favoriters/followers! (Especially you guests who I can't respond to; YOU'RE FABULOUS!) Even if you don't give one... thank you for reading! :D**

 **Until next time! Hope you all enjoyed!**

 **-The Mashpotatoe Queen**

 **PS: Everything that happened here is completely due to my mind taking me strange places. I have no idea if a War Council even exists in the Next Avenger universe... I haven't even had a chance to read the comics yet... :(**

 **Double PS: YOU'RE AWESOME! I LOVE YOU!**


	2. Robot Invasions or Reporters: You Choose

**Hello! Hello! This is late, and I'm uber sorry: I just had a bit of a family emergency and we've been travelling and... yeah. It's pretty crazy right now.**

 **So... originally this was going to be a oneshot? But everyone was like: I NEEED MORE! (Someone even went as far as to hijack one of my other stories! I'm looking at you, jujuliet!) SO here you go! This is kind of one shot style too... but I have a story sort of in mind and It'll have an obvious conclusion in the end of all the little snippets, so there you go!**

 **...**

Francis sighed as he pulled yet another arrow from a sparking robot, swiping the arrow- _ew, robot guts_ \- on his pants before sliding it back into his quiver. That was the woe of being an archer in a team of superheroes; you had to pause in the action to retrieve your weapons.

He wasn't sure what was going on. No one was. All he knew was that one minute he was sleeping- which was a beautiful, beautiful thing that he never got enough of- and the next James was waking him up at bloody three o'clock in the morning because a bunch of freakin' killer robots were invading the newly reestablished city and attacking everyone, and he needed to suit up and be ready to go in five.

(No one mentioned how eerily similar having robots invade the city was. How the sleek silver metal brought to mind Ultron and bad, bad things that should most definitely _not_ ever come into existence again. But the thought was there, and it terrified him.)

Nonetheless, Francis forced himself out of bed and into his gear, in the landing bay and ready to go perfectly on time.

(Well… _ish_. He was _technically_ one minute late, but he didn't think that James noticed, too busy nudging a half asleep Pym to the jet to pay attention, so it was okay.)

On the short ten minute flight there- the robots were attacking on the opposite side of town- Pym fell asleep, drooling, on Francis' shoulder five times, Azari had been threatened for his life by Torunn after repeatedly shocking her and went to hide in the cockpit (although the plane had long since been switched to auto-pilot by Tony, an AI by the name of FRIDAY in charge of its software), Francis himself had to pinch himself awake a couple of times, and every single one of them were cursing the robots for not waiting an extra hour or so before their mass invasion.

The only one who seemed remotely awake was James, and that was probably because he had yet to go to sleep. (Once the kid fell asleep nothing short of an avalanche level of noise could get him up, that or any touching of his person. Francis had learned the hard way to leave James well alone when he was sleeping and to never _, ever_ volunteer to wake him up; he still had bruises.) Francis had a sneaking suspicion that the redhead was running away from dreams and thus staying awake until he crashed, but he had no evidence and James was acting alert enough, so he couldn't really complain. (He'd keep his eye out though, he always did; playing leader for several years does not just suddenly leave you because someone else fills in the role.)

Tony had been gone for several days, on some business trip or another to help certify the Next Avengers with the world. Luckily, this time he didn't insist that they actually go with him…. The peace conference giving ample warning that said events were not at _all_ fun for the children and would probably do more harm than good.

There was that at least.

While he was away, however, taking care of the city (and themselves) had fallen onto their own shoulders. Francis felt that they were actually doing a pretty good job taking care of the city and its outer bounds, keeping it clean of thugs and minor criminals that tended to rise up after such major breakdowns of society, and going out every day to help relocate people and settle them into their new Ultron-free lives.

Taking care of themselves, however…. Well. They ate at least twice a day (All of it take out, not wanting to repeat… _**the incident.**_ ) and most of them get to bed before one in the morning, which was, in all honesty, better than he expected.

It was weird. For the most part, they were alone in a big empty base that had yet to become home and without any adults whatsoever. They were heroes, they had done, and still do, amazing things…

But when push came to shove, they were all sort of still kids.

A fact that Francis deeply resented.

He sighed and bent down to pick up another arrow.

Just as he was standing back up however, his peripheral vision caught the sight of movement and a soft whir filled his ears.

He managed to turn around in time, shooting his newly retrieved arrow directly in the "face" of the robot trying to sneak attack him. The robot, all sleek metal and piercing objects, let out a mechanic roar and retreated, only to dive back at him a moment later. Francis grunted and dove out of the way, pushing off against a wall to flip over the robot's charging form. He whirled around and hooked another arrow, an explosive one this time, and once more shot at the metallic beast, hitting it right between the joints before hightailing it out of there.

In his head, Francis counted off the seconds.

 _3_

 _2_

 _1_

There was a distinct sound of an explosion going off behind him and he smirked, rounding a corner at a flying pace.

His smirk fell off rather quickly when he crashed directly into another hulking mass of metal, especially when said piece of metal turned on him with a mechanic roar, two answering roars following soon after from a small distance away.

Francis sighed.

He hated his life.

An hour, a lot of crushed property, and three dead robots later, Francis found himself lying on the ground and staring drowsily at the sky. The clouds were very pretty, he thought… Fluffy. They were very... fluffy. And white. They were white too. And the sun felt _veeeeerry_ nice on his skin, and his head was kinda hurting, which was sad, but not _too_ sad, 'cause the robots were dead.

Lazily, he glanced to the side where the hulk of a robot head was lying besides him. He absentmindedly patted it, because he felt _kind of_ bad for killing it because it _kind of_ looked like that dog his dad had brought in once…, except, you know, twelve feet tall and made of shiny silver metal. But it had been trying to kill _him_ first! So he guessed it was okay.

Still… Poor puppy….

It was then that Francis realized that the mechanic creature was not entirely undecorated and that there was a simple insignia on the upper lisp of the head, hidden under the curve of the head plate and virtually indistinguishable unless one was practically lying down underneath the head.

...Which Francis just so happened to be doing.

Curious, the archer tilted his head a little to the left. The insignia was a simple "X" lookalike structure, coloured with various purples and oranges. The whole thing was rather faint, but his sharp eyes were able to make it out…. And it looked familiar.

He scrunched his brows in concentration, trying to remember where exactly he had seen the insignia before. However, no sudden enlightenment came to him, and before he was able to further contemplate the familiar sign, he heard a very familiar voice.

"Look, I, uh... I really gotta go! There's like, crazy robots attacking the city and my team needs me and, uh, it was really nice talkin' to you but, um, maybe we can talk later or something instead?"

Francis frowned. Why was Pym sounding so upset? Grudgingly, he stood up and started heading towards the source of the noise… only to pause at the entrance of the alley and glance back.

There was something important he should be doing with the robots, and there was something important with the insignia… but for the life of him he could not remember. Eventually, after a brief hesitation, he shrugged and pushed on forwards; he could always come back and look later.

He turned the corner and was rather surprised to see Pym surrounded by three young woman and a guy with a camera. Pym was obviously flustered, wringing his hands together in complicated patterns and shifting nervously on his feet. The women were all smiling too bright, obviously faked, smiles, and were holding microphones.

Reporters then.

….

….

….

Francis didn't _like_ reporters.

Ever since that night at the Peace Conference, he had developed a finely tuned distaste for them. They were too loud and nosy and he didn't like the way that they got into his personal space and in the way of his job. At the very least, this group was only three; gaggles of reporters were far, _far_ worse.

Still, even though they were only three, they were obviously making Pym uncomfortable, which was UNACCEPTABLE. Pym was too… soft and, and.. squishy. Yeah. Pym was too soft and squishy to be uncomfortable, and he needed to be protected at ALL COSTS! And because Francis was bigger and... less squishy, it was his job to protect the soft and squishy Pym.

He nodded, assured in his logic.

His head hurt.

"So, hun, where were you these last few years and so?"

"Ummm… We were in this base kind of thingie that Tony built, but-"

"So you were abandoning human civilization to its fate?"

"What!? No, no. We just, it wasn't like _that-_ "

"Do you think your parents would be proud of what you're doing today?"

"Wh-What? I- I don't know? I never met them, I was just a baby… but that's besides the point! I really, _really_ need to go and-"

"Did Tony Stark abuse you? Is he using you and the other children against your will?"

"What!? No! Tony's the best-"

"We'll be going. Now."

Both the three women, the camera guy, and Pym looked up at him at the sudden interruption. Pym's face was beyond relieved and he quickly threw himself at the older hero in a tight hug, but the happy features quickly turned into one of concern and fear.

"Hawkeye! You're bleeding!"

Francis frowned, gently lifting a hand to touch at the spot Pym was pointing at. His hand came away red.

"Huh."

That explained why his head hurt.

He became aware of snapping sounds and looked up to glare at the group in front of him. The cameraman was clicking away and the three women were staring at them with fake looks of joy and adoration. It was ridiculous. They were super heroes, not puppies.

"We're going. Now."

He blinked, getting a sense of deja vu; had he already said that?

"Awwww, but sweetheart," Francis bristled at the endearment, "We just wanna know more about you! You too are so cute together! Tell me, Hawkeye, how too you see your fellow hero?"

The archer tilted his head: What kind of question wa _s that_?

"Like, do you see him as a friend? A partner in crime? A brother? A _lover_?"

Francis made a look of disgust at the last suggestion. To even insinuate… Pym was still a kid for heaven's sake! He had hardly even reached double digits! It was ridiculous, and horrible to even consider. It made him feel sick, beyond just the fact that he had a nasty concussion.

"He's a friend and a brother in arms, and it really, _really_ , isn't any of your business."

Perhaps the women might have asked more questions, but just then several explosions wracked the city. The ground shook and smoke fouled the air, leaving them all coughing.

It also left a convenient smoke screen.

Francis grabbed Pym's hand and started to move away, only to stop and abruptly change directions. He pushed his way through the rapidly clearing smoke and towards the alleyway that he had originally left, where the robot heads had been and the very important insignia.

The smoke got thicker as they got closer, and Francis felt a rising sense of dread.

They finally entered the alleyway, coughing, and he felt like hitting himself, because the entire thing was empty except for the smog.

The robots had self destructed, all over the city, leaving behind no evidence.

And the all-important insignia, their only lead so far as to who caused the sudden mechanic invasion- _That_ was what was so important!- was gone as well, their only source of it now in Francis' head.

"Francis?"

Pym was hacking up a lung and his face was incredibly pinched, and so he pulled him out of the alley way and into the open air once more. He swiped sweat and blood from his forehead and tried to ignore his lightheadedness. They had to regroup and plan their next move.

"C'mon, let's go."

Francis took a step… and then promptly fainted.

 **...**

 **MUWAHAHAHAHA! CLIFFIE!**

 **Hope you all enjoyed! :)**


	3. Revealments and Concerns

**Greetings one and all!**

 **Sorry for the long wait; I have been hit with a writer's block that I am trying to overcome.**

 **Thanks for your patience, and a huge thank you and shoutout to** ** _Shiranai Atsune_ , who inspired this story! This person is AWESOMEEEEE!**

 **Now. On with the story!**

 **...**

"Francis? Francis? Francis, are you okay? Francis, wake up! C'mon, you're really scaring me! Wake up, wake up, wake up. C'mon. Please, please wake up. Oh gosh…. James is going to kill me if you're dead… Wait. Are you dead!? Please tell me you're not dead. Francis? Francis!?"

Francis woke up with a headache equivalent with a thousand elephants pounding on his skull and an annoying buzzing in his ear. He groaned, turned away from the insistent chattering, and curled slightly into himself.

He just wanted to go back to sleep.

It was then that Francis realized that he wasn't lying on his beautiful soft, comfortable bed, but on hard gravely concrete.

And that he was in uniform.

And that Pym was shaking his shoulder, exclaiming over and over again, "You're alive!"

Blearily, he opened his eyes and slowly, slowly pushed himself up to his elbows and then slightly further back so that he was leaning against the wall of some old apartment building. He head was pounding at a constant tempo and everything was hazy and dizzy and he had to close his eyes for a few seconds in order to stop the world from spinning.

It really, really didn't help that Pym was hanging onto him like a limpet.

"Francis! You're okay! I was so worried about you!"

Francis winced at the tight grip the younger had on him and gently maneuvered himself to lightly wrap a hand around the younger's shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Now, geroff me."

After several seconds, Pym did eventually release him. Francis took a few moments to _breathe_ before gripping the wall and carefully pushing himself up into a standing position. His head gave a reprimanding throb and his stomach clenched unpleasantly at the motion, but he made it without throwing up.

The whole time, Pym kept up a constant stream of chatter that Francis mainly ignored.

"-and then I was like, ladies, please! I really need to go and get to my team and help with the whole robot invasion thing going on. In fact, you two should really get inside cause it's super dangerous. But then they just kept talking and talking and asking questions and it really sucked, but then you came and you managed to get us away but then you collapsed and I was so scared and-"

Francis, finally having cleared his vision from the encroaching blackness, interrupted.

"Pym?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you tell James where we were and what happened?"

There was a few moments of silence, but then a sheepish, quiet, "...No?"

He would have slapped his forehead if he didn't think it would have caused him a whole lot of pain that he really didn't want to deal with.

"Can you do that now? We kinda need to regroup."

Pym nodded, but then he shook his head.

"Can't; my earpiece got wrecked when fighting one of the bots. It's half smashed, and I can't fix it. Look."

The boy held out his earpiece, and indeed it was horridly broken up, sparking slightly at the edges. It was obviously beyond repair.

"Alright, use mine, then."

It was then that Francis realized that there was a glaring lack of voices in his ear, that there had been for quite some time. Suppressing a curse- he did not need to hear James' _Pym is tiny and impressionable_ speech again- his hand shot up to his ear, finding nothing there.

Hawkeye sighed.

"Never mind, mine's gone, too. Let's just head to the closest meet up point. Here, give me a hand."

Pym slipped under his arm and allowed him to use his shoulders as a personal crutch. Sort of. Francis tried to keep most of his weight to himself, but he honestly wasn't very trusting towards his own capabilities at that point.

Francis blinked, trying to remember his general location, and then jerked his head to the left, where the pair made their slow and lumbering way down the road.

It turns out that the wouldn't have to go _too_ far…

He almost, _almost_ , lashed out when someone suddenly jumped down in front of him. He just managed to suppress himself, and was hugely relieved he did so when he recognized the figure in front of him.

It was James, looking relieved to see them mainly intact, and slightly annoyed. (Pym had assured him annoyance was James' way of expressing concern, but Francis wasn't so sure…) The red-headed boy had deep bags under his eyes and a sluggishly bleeding cut on his shoulder, and even as Francis watched he was reaching up to his-luckily intact- earpiece.

"Found them. It looks like they're gunna need medical attention, so maybe bring the kit…. In fact, can you just rewire the whole aircraft to head in our location? Track it through my comn. I think we're all in need of a little regrouping, and maybe some food… And medical aid."

Some indistinct voice- Francis was pretty sure that it was Azari, but he couldn't be sure- responded affirmatively and James nodded absentmindedly before bringing his hand back down to his sides.

"Why weren't you guys responding? We we're getting worried."

Francis and Pym looked at each other before looking back up at their leader.

Pym was the one who responded.

"My comn broke, and Francis lost his somewhere while fighting."

James stared at them for several more seconds, as if judging their truthfulness and determining they were not playing a prank. Then he went to Francis' side that did _not_ have a Pym latched onto it and slipped himself underneath the archer's arm. It took Francis approximately two seconds to realize that the quick flash of a grimace he saw on James' face was because he was using his wounded shoulder to support him.

Not happening.

"You sure you should be doing that with your shoulder?"

James scowled up at him- because Francis was still a smidgen taller than him, though not by much- and did a one-armed shrug.

"I'll be fine."

Francis stared at the younger boy incredulously for approximately two seconds before dragging his heels in the concrete.

"Pym, switch sides with James."

Pym looked up at him for half a second before performing his own shrug.

"Okay!"

The youngest member slipped out from Francis' side and then wormed his way under his other one, completely ignoring James' halfhearted sputters.

"I thought I was the leader?"

Pym looked up at the ginger.

"Well…. Yeah…. But Francis is older so he get's 'taking care of you' rights."

James sputtered again, gave a semi-glare in Francis' direction, to which he responded with a brilliantly charming and not at _all_ evil grin, and then finally admitted defeat. With a sigh, the ginger slipped to Francis' other side and together they all made their stumbling way to the shady outcrop of a supposedly abandoned building.

The jet arrived two minutes later, and the trio hastily- or at least, with as much speed as possible- climbed aboard. Torunn was bandaging Azari's ankle, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, but gave a small smile at the trio when they entered. Francis immediately plopped down next to Azari and thumped his head back against the smooth metal walls of the ship. He felt Torunn and James' concerned looks but refused to acknowledge them, instead shutting his eyes.

Pym was grabbing the spare med kit from its cupboard and dashing over to James, where he quickly but effectively started removing James' outer layer to tend to the bloody wound, chatting all the while. All of them had good training when it came to dealing with injuries, even Pym, as one too many life-threatening encounters had taught them that being able to stitch up wounds and wrap up cuts were very important skills, especially when no one else was around to help them.

And, in all honesty, it was pretty normal that no one else would be around to help them.

And wasn't _that_ sad?

Torunn gave one last decisive tug on Azari's wrapped ankle before coming to stand before Francis, handing over a pair of pills without comment. He checked to make sure they weren't anything too strong- they would be, after all, heading out again to deal with the aftershocks in a few minutes- before swallowing them down dry. Then with quick fingers, the sole female of the team dabbed away the blood and grime coating Francis' hair and peered at the wound.

"You okay?"

The question was rather mild, but he could hear the concern underlying her tone, so he gave her his best smile and nodded slightly, as to prevent from messing up her work.

"You?"

She gave him a small smile.

"I am fine. One of the robots managed to give me a shallow wound on my thigh, but other than that I am unharmed."

At seeing his concerned look, she rolled her eyes fondly.

"My wounds are already tended, have no fear."

And so Francis stayed silent and allowed her to wrap his head.

There was an exhausted sort of quiet within the jet as they all patched each other up, one that spoke of their early rising and their long day, and the still longer hours they were going to have to maintain in the near future, when they headed out again to save civilians from collapsed buildings and put out fires from the self destruction of the robots. It was the sort of quiet that came during a brief lull of the battle filled with soft murmurs and winces and explanations.

It was the sort of quiet, Francis realized, that came about when kids got exhausted and didn't really know what to do with themselves.

Eventually, the last of their wounds were tended to and they all congregated in the central area where Pym was grabbing snacks from yet another cabinet and plopping them on the small secure dining table. Even their ever excitable youngest was quieter now, his words making little sense and more like mindless background noise.

James rubbed at his eyes.

"Alright, report. What do we have so far? Any leads?"

Torunn spoke up next, dropping her sword heavily onto the table as she plopped down into the chair next to James.

"I fear I have no leads, but I did manages to take down twelve of the mechanical beasts. From my observations, it appears that there were several different types invading the city, all with different capabilities."

James nodded.

"Yeah… I noticed that, too. And you're okay besides your leg?"

The female warrior nodeed.

"Alright, that's good. Azari?"

The dark skinned boy looked up. I… I uh… took down seven of them. At first it was really easy, just had to overwhelm them with electricity and then _BOOM!_ They no longer worked… but then robots started to come after me that really weren't affected by the shocks and I got messed up and then got my ankle twisted when I landed wrong in a dodge… It was like four of them at once and I-"

James cut him off before the younger boy could get any farther in his self deprecating rant.

"That's okay, Azari. Just be a little more flexible with tactics next time. Did you get any leads about who sent the robots?"

Azari silently shook his head

"Alright, Pym?"

As Pym explained that he had taken down five of the creatures- mainly by shrinking and slipping through the cracks in order to mess with the wiring- and then had gotten held back because of the reporters, Francis opened up a bag of almonds and an energy drink before handing it over to Azari, who accepted the offering with a small smile and nod of thanks. The younger boy's hands were shaking ever so slightly, spasming from the lack of electrolytes in his system; using up mass amounts of electricity all at once did that to ya.

Francis tuned into the conversation just as Pym finished his rant on how he had broken his earpiece.

"Okay. Thanks, Pym. Just… I'd prefer if you didn't slip into the body of random robots and mess with their wiring while still inside next time, okay? At least, not without exploring all the options first. What if one of those things had exploded while you were still inside of it?"

Everyone at the table shuddered at the thought, and there was sience at the table for a few moments until James continued on.

"Did you learn anything about where the robots came from?"

Pym tilted his head, considering.

"Ummm…. I'm pretty sure that they were produced pretty recently; no signs of rust or anything like that. And all were made out of the same materials and with same general body shape and mechanical functions, and I'm pretty sure that they were all monitored and connected by a single source because…"

From there, Pym slipped into a long speal of techno babble that no one could understand except for possibly James, and even then the redhead's brow was furrowed in slight confusion, occasionally asking Pym to verify. It was times like these that Francis was reminded that the kid was actually a verified genius, and not simply a brightly coloured bundle of energy.

By the end of it, Francis felt exhaustion pulling on his eyelids that he was determined to ignore and a pounding in his head that made the task rather difficult. There was something important that his concussed brain was trying to remind him of, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

At least, he wasn't able to until Pym started explaining to James how the wires crossed, like and X, and then curled upwards to the 'brain' of the robot. Then the important thing he was supposed to remember came to mind rather easily.

Abruptly, he stood up, cutting Pym off.

"I think I might have a lead."

All their attention was on him now, but Francis ignored them in favor of drawing up the hologram out of the table and roughly sketching out the insignia he had seen.

"I had just defeated a trio of 'bots and was on the ground looking up at one of the necks when I spotted this imprinted there."

He finished colouring his X-like figure and stepped back, twisting the floating shape to face the others.

"Any ideas?"

They all shook their heads, and Francis felt hi stomach drop. He was so sure he had seen the symbol before, somewhere, and had thought that one of the others would have recognized the insignia where he had not.

James drew him out of his disappointment.

"It's still a start, though. We'll look into it more later tonight. For now… I think we need to get out there and try do some damage control."

They all nodded, suited up, and headed out into the fray.

* * *

Hours later, lying in the dark on his blessedly soft bed and tossing a ball back and forth between his hands, Francis thought. He thought and thought and thought, trying to place where he had seen the insignia before, but unable to find it in his memories.

They had gotten back to base at roughly two in the morning, and had eaten some microwave mac and cheese as their dinner, even though it tasted absolutely horrible. Then they had tried to research the insignia, but after Pym fell asleep onto his computer for the fourth time, James called it a night, hoisting the younger boy onto his back and lugging him off to bed.

They had all followed suit soon after.

But Francis couldn't sleep. He was so sure, _so sure,_ if he could just think hard enough, the memory he was searching for would click into place.

It did not.

After another hour of fruitless thought, Francis sighed and pulled himself out of bed- swaying slightly at the dizzy spell that came from the motion- finally giving into defeat. Maybe it would come to him in the morning.

But as he tiredly placed his ball away in his drawer, his eyes were drawn to the clear, simple box which held a small plain necklace within it. He had gotten it for Torunn, seeing the simple elegant design and buying it in a spur of a moment action that always seemed to overcome him whenever Torunn was involved.

He picked up the necklace, watched as it swung silently back and forth in his hand.

And suddenly he was transported back to several months ago, when he was holding a tiny girl in his arms, watching a silver chained necklace with a brightly colored X-shaped insignia swing wildly in the wind as Torunn rushed them to safety through the air.

The necklace in his hands dropped to the ground when he finally remembered just where he had seen the necklace, on a little girl he had saved from an exploding building in a seemingly unconnected event.

 _"_ _Lacey."_

 **...**

 **So? What did you think? I'm trying to get back into the flow of writing, so any feedback would be great! :)**

 **Also I would like to address something that I find very important in my superhero works:**

 **Kid superheroes are underrated a lot in our fandoms. Not always of course, but like, these kids have to deal with going to school and training and dealing with hormones while at the same time their facing all the evil this world has to offer and their fighting bad guys and getting hurt and kicking butt and most of them have really horrid backstories as well but they still manage to fight and smile and see something worth protecting in this world and just... WOW. You know? All these child heroes (Or, I guess, Teen heroes) will be like, fighting for over half of their lives by the time they turn twenty something. And I guess I find them kind of incredible.**

 **And then there's the Next Avengers, who basically are the world's _sole heroes_. And they have no one to really guide them or train them or help them, except for Tony, but he's just one guy, and like... guys. I respect these people so much.**

 **I hope that it shows in my writing.**

 **ANYWAYS, now for my overdue shoutouts!**

 **To Fangirlingovermarvel, Shiranai Atsune, TORI, Andy the willow tree, Jujuliet, Romanogersarmy, Haha, and Pierce: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MY REVIEWS YOU FANTABULOUS PEOPLES! YOU GUYS ENCOURAGED ME TO GET MY BUTT INTO GEAR AND I CAN NEVER THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR YOUR SHOWS OF SUPPORT! *HUGS***

 **I lost my list for favoriter/followers, :C but you guys are SUPER DUPER APPRECIATED AS WELLL! THANK YOUUUUU!**

 **Now, to respond to my guests:**

 _ **To TORI:**_ Haha! I missed your enthusiasm and awesomeness just as much as you missed my writing! :D I'm so glad that you enjoyed this fic as well as the other fic, and I hope you're happy that I'm continuing this one! :) As you see, I have included more Torinn and a bit more James, as I shall bow to your whims and needs. I 'll try and include a bit of protective James a little later as well! ;) Then everything can be awesome sauce! :D Thanks for the lovely review! *hugs*

 _ **To Jujuliet:**_ Don't worry about it, my friend. I was honestly teasing, and seeing your review- even if it was on one of my other stories- was an absolute joy. It convinced me that the peoples wanted a continuation, and so I did just so. :) So really, don't feel bad! I love ALL your reviews, including this one!

 _ **To Romanogersarmy:**_ I'm so glad that you're liking the story so far! It's brilliant to hear. I'm hoping to include a bit more Torunn and Francis later on, so you have that to look forward too! Sorry it's not so much in this chapter, though... Still, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for my review! :) :) :)

 _ **To Haha:**_ Greetings! Thank you for the review! I shall do my very best to get right on that! *hugs*

 _ **To Peirce:**_ Excellent choice, my friend! Yeah... it is kind of a weird question, isn't it? I'm not quite sure what I was thinking when I named the chapter, but it just sort of happened and I went with it. *shrugs* Hope it wasn't too bothersome! Thanks for your support! :D *hugs*

 **Geez... that was a long AN. Sorry bout that...**

 **Until next time!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**


	4. Eyes Watching Unseen

**Hey guys! I'm back! Sorry for the delay and here's your next chapter!**

 **Written in honour of Shiranai Atsune. :)**

 **...**

Francis rushed down the winding hallways of the base, heading quickly but silently towards James' room. The more time they let the lead lie, the colder it would become. He had to let their leader know _now_ , before it was too late, and then go from there. Even if it was just to get the computers booted up and ready to search for Lacey, it would be _something_ , one step closer to figuring out just what was going on.

And if the robot invasion was connected to the Peace Conference explosions… well, that made figuring it all out doubly important, because that meant someone was actively trying to kill the Avengers- and had yet to give up on it- and that the explosions and the robots could have been just one step out of many to get to them. That they could have been tests or simply the beginning of a long convoluted plot.

Which was not good. At all.

The only woe to his plan of waking James up was that _he_ would have to be the one to do it. He still remembered the last time that had happened, his ribs giving a pang of phantom pain from when the other had flung him into the wall at the merest of touches. (His supposed _teammates_ had tricked him into it.) To be fair, he hadn't exactly been expecting it, but…. Still, it wasn't going to be fun.

It turned out he wouldn't have to.

Quietly, he cracked the door open. He knew, logically, that a sleeping James wouldn't wake up even if he slammed the obstacle away and claimed he was from the Planet Zorgog, here to suck out all brains from the planet, but at the same time he _really_ didn't want to wake up the rest of the team; he had seen a sleep deprived Torunn _. Not fun_.

But his hard efforts were for naught; James was already awake.

Except, except James wasn't awake working out, or on his computer trying to figure out the case, or even just lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, as he was sometimes prone to do. No, he was in the corner of his room, hand covering his mouth and eyes _wide, wide, wide,_ staring at something that wasn't there and breathing _just_ this side of too fast.

And for a second Francis could only stare in confusion, incomprehension filling his very being because his brain was frying at seeing James like this, crumpled in on himself and terrified, but then it hit, _Oh, beginnings of a major panic attack_ and he was moving before he even made a conscious decision.

He crouched down in front of the ginger, whose blue eyes locked onto his own, panicked and startled and maybe a little relieved, but when he reached out to touch the younger boy James physically _flinched_ and something told him that the tactile approach probably wouldn't work this time.

Which was good, all things considering, because Francis _sucked_ at the tactile approach.

So he gave up on pulling James into a one armed hug and slid down the wall to sit next to him instead, staring straight ahead and being a silent piece of rock to lean on. Not intruding, not butting in, but definitely still _there_.

James' breath hitched, hard, and he could just _feel_ the ginger's incredulous gaze on him, but he didn't respond to it, still staring at the wall.

And then, "Fr-Francis?" filled the silence, and so he tilted his head to face the other the slightest bit.

"Yeah?"

Blue eyes blinked at him.

"Wh-What are you doin' here?"

Instantly, Lacey popped into his head. The lead. The lead that was going cold with every minute he sat there, not doing anything. The reason he had headed over to James' room in the first place.

But then he caught the other's eye again, the bright blue orbs, terrified and panicky and confused, but most of all he was struck by the fact of how _young_ James looked. It was pretty unnoticeable during the day, where the other was the epiphany of mature grace ( _especially_ next to Pym), but in the dark of the room lit only by the small lamp in the corner, with James' personality shrunken down by anxiety and the likes, it was so _obvious_.

And, Jesus Christ, they were just _kids_. All of them. He was, Pym was, Torunn, Azari, James. All of them. They were kids and they had the entire weight of the world on their shoulders because of grown ups who were either too stupid or too scared to help, and it was, it was _ridiculous_. James was what? Fourteen? Fifteen? And here he was, calculating risks of lives and fighting monster robots and geez, _what had their lives become_?

And this wasn't the first time the thought occurred to him, but most of the time it hit him with anger because he was a kid and people disrespected him for it. Now, it just made him feel sort of sad, because he looked young but it had sure as hell been a long time since he had been a child.

It had been a long time for the most of them, he was pretty sure.

It took him back to a few years ago, when he had been training with his dad, and the elder archer had suddenly just stopped, burying his head in his hands and just _sat there_ for several minutes, as if the whole wide world had been placed on his shoulders and it had suddenly become too much to bear.

The man's shoulders had not shaken, and there was no muffled gasps, but Francis still remembered the waver in his dad's voice as he had said, " _Christ, kid, you're nine. You're supposed to be asking me to help you beat up the latest gym leader in Pokemon, not the best way to take down a robot without getting dead is,_" and he hadn't realized it at the time, but it was one of the few times he had seen his dad cry.

(Right afterwards, Francis had asked what a Pokemon was, and then his dad had shook, just once, before standing up and repositioning himself at the mark, hooking up an arrow and looking at him through the corner of his only slightly red eye, asking if he was ready for another round. They didn't bring it up again.)

He imagined that what he was feeling was what his father had been, all those years ago, and that made something in his stomach _clench_ , mourning for a life which he could never have, one where he was normal and knew what a Pokemon was, where he had a mom and a dad and maybe James and the others were simply his friends who lived across the street instead of his team with whom he took down crime and tried to rebuild a broken world with.

One where he didn't know what a panic attack was, didn't know what it felt like to experience one, didn't know how to sit and support in silent comfort until the other was ready. One where they were children, when they didn't grow up too fast, where they were not simply survivors who stayed _just_ this side of broken and lost and had somehow become the world's only heroes, but _kids_.

One where he didn't sit in the corner of a room with his team leader, lost as to how to answer a question, because there was a lead to be followed and no time to waste, but all the anxiety attacks in the world.

In the end, he decided on a shrug.

"Just wanted to check in. Glad I did."

(He would let James be kid, if only for a little while. The world owed it to him. To them. The lead couldn't wait, but it could wait for _this._ )

James laughed, his voice dry and cracked and a little small.

"Yeah?"

Francis smiled, shrugged again.

"Yeah."

They fell silent, James heavy breathing the only thing filling the quiet air. Francis noted, however, that it was slowing down, and felt something like relief unfold in his stomach.

It was only when James' breathing became loose and easy that he dared to speak up again.

"Is it like this every night?"

The other tensed besides him, closing up, and Francis made sure to stay very, very still, face blank.

"I- It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

He side eyed him, seeing how the redhead was staring distantly into the wall, arms crossed defensively over his legs, which were pulled so tight to his chest that Francis would assume it was physically painful if it was literally anyone else; James was _freakishly_ flexible, something someone wouldn't really assume about him until they see they see him stretching.

"That… really doesn't answer the question."

(Not _my_ question, _the_ question; depersonalize it, make him feel like he was in control.)

James responded with a glare, one that enunciated the darkness under his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks, (Now that he thought about it, when was the last time he had seen James eat?) again unwittingly portraying his youth.

"I _said_ it was nothing. Just- just go back to bed, Hawkeye. I'll be fine."

And he _stared_ at the younger, trying to determine if he was just being pushed away because James was annoyingly selfless or if the other legitimately wanted to have some alone time to figure things out for himself.

The other's eyes flickered up at him, and then back to the wall. Definitely just being selfless.

So he leaned a little further back onto the wall, throwing an arm around the other's shoulders, ignoring how James tensed at the simple touch.

"Nope."

James frowned.

"I thought you made me your leader. You're supposed to _listen_ to me."

Francis grinned, because wasn't this familiar, getting a sense of deja vu from earlier in the day.

"Well," he said smugly, quoting Pym, "I'm older than you so I get 'taking care of you rights.'"

They looked at each other again, faces serious, but then James' lip twitched and they were laughing lightly, whiling the night away in the quiet hours before the dawn. It was those quiet moments that hit Francis the hardest, because for some reason he had never imagined his life would ever turn out even remotely like this.

(Before, he often thought his life would end in pain- a blast of a laser, the piercing of flesh with something sharp and metal- but worst of all he always saw his life as ending _alone_.)

James yawned, and again the archer's thoughts turned to Lacey. There was no way he could bring up the lead when James was so tired, because he just _knew_ that a single mention of her would have him standing up and heading out, even though he was beyond exhausted and still recovering from his own injuries. To make it worse, however, they were _all_ like that; not a single one of them would be willing to be rational and wait, they would get up and get going despite all their own personal woes.

(He refused to pay any attention to the voice whispering that he was included in that definition.)

"Your head okay?"

That was James, concerned and tired, but ever a leader.

Francis blinked out of his funk, shrugged, choosing to ignore the faint pounding in the back of his skull in favor of saying, "Fine. How 'bout your shoulder?"

James gave it a small roll and then winced, sighing at his slight reaction to pain, as if it was some sort of horrible crime to feel hurt.

"It'll be fine."

Francis briefly considered staying. Just, sitting there and offering to watch a movie or something to waste the night away, but at the same time…

He knew that James was an intensely private person who didn't care to show weakness. (He himself was much the same.) He also knew that the other would not appreciate any show of pity, which would be what James would see any offer to stay as, especially from Francis, a relatively new member to the team.

...Besides, he had other stuff that had to be done.

So, with a heaving sigh and a dramatic stretch, he pulled himself up into a standing position.

"Kay, if you're good, I'm gonna head back to bed."

And James looked up at him from the floor for several seconds before slowly rising to stand besides him. The younger boy gave him a smile, a half wave, and turned to go to bed.

"Yeah. Okay. G'night."

Francis waved back and started his slow way towards the door, navigating the dark with practiced ease. He slipped out the confines of the bedroom, taking care to click the door shut silently behind him.

And then he took off towards the supercomputer that Tony had set up. He had a girl to locate and a lead to follow.

With rapid fingers, he quickly tapped in Lacey's description. She was five years old and lived in the outskirts of Ultron City- he had asked shortly before depositing her at the missing persons camp that had been set up after the peace conference to help families and friends locate each other, as he had been trying to get as much information as possible for the officials managing the area- and had long, thick black hair and bright oval green eyes. Her skin was pretty tan, and her mother had died some years ago.

A list of potential candidates popped up, which he searched through with sharp eyes, looking out for the girl's small quirky smile and the particular shiny necklace that had put him on the lead in the first place.

About halfway through the list he found her, along with an address.

 _Lacey Xenos_

 _314 B Livingston Street_

All he had to do was head out to her house, find her, ask her some questions about the necklace and what she knew about it- or, even better, her father, a man by the name of George Xenos, according to the computer- and go from there. Perhaps coming back to base and checking in. It was simple, perhaps a three hour job, max.

So he headed to the storage rooms and suited up, grabbing his bow and arrows and downloading a map of the city, placing a small chip in his ear so that the automated voice could give him directions as to where to go.

And then he hesitated.

Because he knew that he shouldn't go through with his plan alone. That he should wait until morning and just do it with the team. That it was dangerous. That he himself was tired and injured and probably needed sleep. But at the same time…

At the same time, the trail was getting cold, and they had probably already let enough time pass for the villain to pack up and move out. That he had managed working solo for years and was more than capable at it. That this villain was a threat, and that Lacey was probably an innocent civilian in his clutches. That he had never been good at ignoring someone who needed his help.

His thoughts turned to the team. To Torunn. To Pym. To James and Azari. Even Tony, if the others got in contact with him. They would worry. They would stress out. They would very probably go looking for him.

His mind turned once more to James' ridiculously pale face in the dark of the navy blue room.

And then he realized that he couldn't do it. That he couldn't leave the team- _his team_ \- hanging dry, so he wrote a note.

 _Gone to investigate the lead. Lacey Xenos on 314 B Livingston Street._

 _(Was wearing necklace of insignia at the conference.)_

 _Be back by 4AM._

 _~Hawkeye_

He double checked the wording and then placed the note on the dining room table, heading to the roof immediately after, his hand gripping his bow tight in his gloved palm and fingertips already itching towards his arrows.

It was time to go swinging.

* * *

He arrived at the mansion in under an hour, just as he had expected. Silently, he slipped into the tree of the neighbor's house, investigating the mansion of a home with sharp, curious eyes.

The entire house was immaculate. Every single blade of grass was in place, not a single fingerprint on the window panes, no toys left about in a jumbled heap. It looked like a model house out of the magazines they used to burn for fire back when Ultron was still in charge. It was almost concerning, knowing the ball of energy that had been Lacey as soon as the danger was over. The girl had chattered non stop, insisting that she swung around Francis' back to cling like a monkey as he in turn held onto Torunn, who she had absolutely adored. He would never admit it, but he had found the girl almost _cute_ in the way she had smiled up at him, the kind that almost came off more as a smirk than a grin. She had been a good kid, but an _excitable_ one.

And yet here was the house she supposedly lived in, clean and neat and tidy, like no little girl lived there at all.

It made something like worry curl in his gut.

Then, as if summoned by his very thoughts, Lacey appeared on the front steps.

He blinked, watching as the young girl plotted herself down, head facing forwards as it rested in her hands, shoulders drooping.

It was only two in the morning.

Something small and silver flashed in the streetlights, something that he concluded was the girl's necklace, and his lead.

Without a second thought, but more than a little concern, he swung himself down from his perch and onto the bright green grass of the earth below. The blades were slightly wet from dew, but he managed to head silently towards the girl anyways.

"Lacey?"

She started, drooping head snapping to full attention in mere moments, her gaze swiveling to his direction in an almost frightened manner. Upon seeing him, she relaxed, only to tense up again moments later, as if coming upon an unpleasant realization.

"H-Hawkeye?"

She tilted her head slightly to the right in question, and it was only then that Francis realized she had a massive bruise blooming over the left side of her face. The discolouration had been mainly hidden by her hair, but the movement had shifted the midnight locks and revealed their ugly secret.

He felt his stomach drop.

Cautiously, slowly, he headed in her direction, sitting down besides her on the front curb with some space between them, as to not startle her.

Then he gently reached towards her, movements still slow and nonthreatening, trying to get a better look at the bruise.

She still flinched.

He retreated his hand.

"Lacey? Are you okay? What happened?"

He tried to keep his voice soft, only delicately prodding, but she wasn't paying any attention to him. Instead, her eyes were flickering all around, never staying in one spot for more than a moment. Her hands were wringing together nervously, her dark green nightgown wrinkled and slightly dirty from grime.

"I- I'm okay, but you gotta go!"

Francis frowned.

"I'm not going to leave you here if you need help, Lacey. I'm a hero. That's what heroes do. They help people."

The lead could wait. This was more important.

He took her far smaller hand in his own, trying to get across to her that _she wasn't alone_ , something that he had been trying to drill into his own head ever since he had saved a bunch of kids- but not kids, warriors, young but by no means innocent- from getting killed by bots all those months ago, and who had in turn saved him.

"I can help you, Lacey. _Let me help you_. Who did this? Was it your Dad? Is he hurting you?"

She whimpered, her eyes still fluttering around the scene before settling back on him.

"I- You don't understand! You gotta go, now! Otherwise he'll-

Her eyes latched onto something in the distance, and she gulped, her free hand clutching at her dress.

"You gotta come with me."

He frowned again at the complete one eighty, and then even more so when she stood up and started to tug at his hand in direction of the house. He turned his head, searching the empty street in an attempt to find what had unsettled her to such an extent, and saw nothing.

Slightly unwilling, he turned and allowed himself to be dragged into the house.

"C'mon, Lacey, where are we going? Where are you taking me?"

As his voice faded behind them, a small red light on the painted gate fence flashed once more, indicating the miniscule camera that was hidden there was alive and recording. The unseen eyes watched as the pair disappeared into the looming darkened doorway, and the face in which they rested _grinned_.

Everything was going according to plan.

 **...**

 **Sooooo? What did ya think! I'd love to hear you thoughts! :)**

 **Thank you so much for reading, my friends!**

 **Huge thank you to my now follower, Shiranai Atsune, and a HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO MY LOVELY REVIEWERS, Fangirlingovermarvel, Shiranai Atsune, and Guest!**

 ** _To Guest:_** Haha, YES! IT'S LACEY! GAAAHHHH! Love your enthusiasm; it really brightened my day! So glad you liked the chapter and I hope you like this one just as much! *Hugs tighter* **P.S:** Have you ever thought of personalizing your Guest name? I don't want to mix you up with another blank face "Guest," that would be so sad!

 **I shall be updating everything reaaaaally quickly now that summer's about, so I should update my at least one of my other stories by tomorrow!**

 **Until next time!**

 **-The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	5. The Stage is Set, The Curtains Rising

**BOOM BADDA BING! NEXT CHAPTER!**

 **This story was written in honour of the wonderful Shiranai Astune!**

 **...**

Lacey continued to drag Francis through the house, up a grand staircase of creaking wooden steps, past barriers of elegant abandoned rooms, and through long intricate hallways of darkened tapestries and stern faces.

The whole house was an enigma, all the decorations appearing beautiful and detailed and well thought out, but overall only giving off a vibe of creepiness and the feeling of something lurking in the dark, as if a pair of eyes were following them.

In all honesty, it was giving him a headache. Well, he thought it was. The headache could possibly be remnant from his minor concussion, or even the lack of sleep. It had happened before.

There were the strange X-shaped insignias everywhere as well, acting as the handles for drawers, imprinted on door knobs, carved into the delicate frames that held the images of stern looking men and women. The same X insignia that he knew was bouncing up and down on the chain around Lacey's neck, the same one he had seen painted on the robot, tucked up somewhere small and out of sight, unnoticeable unless one was directly under the metallic beast.

The whole thing screamed of a stereotypical evil hideout, and even if the place hadn't, Francis felt the urgent need to grab Lacey and get out of there; any house that contained kids with bruised faces sitting outside in the middle of the night couldn't be a good one.

The worst part, though, was the silence. There was no noise, just an unnatural stillness in the air. No clocks ticking, no dishwashers running, no washing machine humming, no pipes rattling, no quiet, sleepy breathing, no _nothing_. It was just them and a silent old house, as if the whole place was set up as a prop, just waiting for the curtains to rise and the play to start.

"Lacey, where are you taking me? Where are we going?"

His own voice was hushed, as if to keep the silence from shattering. The girl in front of him, though, just kept right on going, her small hand continuously tugging and yanking at his own. She didn't say anything in response, only a flicker of her eyes in his direction showing that she had heard him at all.

The only sounds were their feet brushing against the plush purple carpet, and as they continued on, Francis became more and more uneasy as the seconds ticked by on the imaginary clock, the unseen eyes that didn't exist boring into his back.

(Little did he know, the eyes did exist. Little did he know, the eyes were watching. Little did he know, the eyes were waiting, waiting for their moment to strike.)

"Lacey? Lacey, I... I need to talk to your dad. Is what you're showing me really that important?"

He started to dig his heels in the carpet a little, resisting the surprisingly strong pull on his arm.

To his surprise, Lacey _panicked_ , whirling around on him with her eyes a mile wide and her nose quivering ever so slightly, the bruise on her face rather hollow looking and ghastly in the dim yellow lighting of the corridor.

"W-Wait, you gotta come with me! It's _really_ important. I... I need your help."

And she stared at him, green orbs wide and pleading, and _Darn it,_ it turned out that he was weaker than he thought, because it wasn't only Pym who could get past his barriers. Nooo, _no_ it appeared any kid who could wield a half decent pair of puppy dog eyes had him wrapped around their little finger.

He sighed, gestured for her to continue guiding him along, and she grinned, bright and brilliant, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes, and so he gave a small smile back.

Putty. He was _putty_ for any snot nosed kid who came along with a cute smile and wide eyes, it turned out. He had grown _soft_.

It was totally all Pym's fault.

The evil little bugger probably _planned_ it all.

While Hawkeye contemplated the evilness of Pym's plot to weaken him to the will of puppydog eyes and cute children, Lacey dragged him down a few more hallways and finally arrived to a stop in front of a faded sky blue door.

She gestured him to open it, small feet shifting nervously on the carpet below.

For a few moments, he hesitated; he didn't know what was waiting for him behind the unassuming door, what was waiting for the two of them, if it was dangerous and preparing for attack, or friendly, or just an empty room. He didn't know if he was about to meet Lacey's father or a nanny or nobody at all.

His fingers twitched to his bow, strapped across his back, but he resisted the urge with one glance at Lacey, who was staring with quiet eyes at the door, waiting; who knew how she would respond to a weapon being held with anticipation of attack, especially if his suspicions about her father were true.

And so, with a deep breath and a slight shift in his stance, Francis nudged open the door.

He was greeted with a nursery.

He blinked, because there it was, simple as could be. Tucked in one corner was a basic cot of a bed, a couple of blankets and a few stuffed animals strewn all over it. In the other corner was a light green crib, holding a baby blanket and a couple of binkies. In the center of the room, placed against the wall, was a small bookshelf filled with books, one or two of them splayed across the floor.

The whole scene, while natural looking enough, seemed... off.

Slowly, he entered the room, eyes flickering to every surface in unease. It was only when he was closer to the furniture that he realized just what was wrong with the room.

Everything was brand new.

The blankets were starch clean and unused, the books spines contained no signs of ever being opened, there was no dust on the cot of the crib-unlike the rest of the house- and a few of the stuffed animals had tags on them, even.

This was set up. This was set up for a reason, and Francis had an inkling that it wasn't a nice one. That somewhere, someone was pulling at the string that would raise the curtain and allow the performance to start.

Slowly, he turned himself around.

"Lacey….What's going on?"

But Lacey wasn't there anymore, gone as if she had simply been an illusion.

Francis blinked, straightening his crouched position by the cot, and that was when the door burst in and a mass of masked armed men poured into the room.

Swearing, Francis reached for his bow, only to falter and dive to the side instead. The men had guns, and one had just shot a bullet at him.

Taking a quick glance with his keen eyes, he realized his original assumption was wrong, because the object dug into the wall wasn't a bullet, but a tranquilizer dart.

Which, in all honesty, was even worse, because it meant they had plans for him, that they were planning on _taking_ him somewhere.

Which wasn't good, which wasn't good _at all_.

The room was small, meaning his bows and arrows were pretty useless beyond basic hitting and stab weapons for worst case scenarios, so he reached to his belt and drew out his knives.

And then he dropped to the ground as three darts whistled through the air right where his chest had been.

There were no windows, probably on purpose, and the added beds and shelf made the limited space even more hard to maneuver in, especially as more and more and more thugs piled into the room.

It was a trap. The whole thing was a trap. They had been waiting for him, or him and the rest of the Avengers, the entire time. But how? How could they have known that he would have remembered Lacey's necklace and traced her back here? How could they have known he would be here at all?

Unless they had been following him. Unless they had been watching him. Unless they had been planning something else, something that involved lots of men and lots of money, and he had just conveniently shown up.

He felt his blood run cold, and used the butt of his knife to knock yet another man unconscious, flipping off the wall as a different thug charged at him, using the heel of his foot to slam that one to the ground as well.

Looking around the room, the placing seemed hasty, simple, as if someone had ordered someone to grab a few things from storage and shove them in there to keep people from wandering. It was a nice enough set up, one that appeared normal enough to the casual eye, even if it was a little minimalist.

But there could have been so much more, stuff that would have made the whole place less eerie and more homey, as if it was an actual nursery instead of a set up for the play. Clothes strewn on the ground, more toys messily scattered about, a carpet, a layer of paint on the walls and glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, _something_.

(Francis didn't really know for himself what a kid's room looked like- he grew up on the run, in trash and in dark hidey hole places that robots couldn't fit in- but he had visited enough rich family homes in the clean up efforts after Ultron- to ask for funding, to ask for information, to ask for support- and he knew enough to tell something was seriously off about this one.)

He remembered reading how Mr. Xenos had had an inspection the other day, a standard procedure that the Avengers had implemented after realizing how many houses had simply been commandeered by random strangers after their actual owners were driven out. He wandered if this room had simply been a part of the ploy to make sure he got to keep his house and his kids.

But Francis had no more time to think, because suddenly he realized that he was no longer the only youngling in the room, that one of the thugs was holding Lacey, a knife to her throat.

He stilled.

Lacey's eyes were wet with tears, but there was no fear, despite the threat on her life. There was just this quiet remorse, as if she was trying to apologize with her eyes alone.

Francis wandered why, and then something hard and solid slammed into the back of his head and he had no more time to wander anything at all.

The last thing he saw was the blurry image of Lacey, standing alone and unharmed in the midst of the heavy booted feet, her bruised eye ghastly in the low lighting. He saw her tugging at something, hand latching onto the fingers of a small skinny boy- one even smaller than Lacey, maybe three or four years old- who had matching short black hair and matching green eyes.

Matching green eyes that turned on him as the figure of a man in crisp suit came to stand in front of his collapsed form, matching green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark in his dizzy head, matching green eyes that slowly disappeared behind his closing eyelids, the pinprick of a tranquilizer on his neck the last thing of reality occurring to him as the world disappeared from view.

The stage had been set, and there was an illusion, and he had fallen for it.

* * *

James woke up sweaty and tangled in his sheets, but surprisingly well rested.

Correction; James woke up sweaty and tangled in his sheets after unconsciously bodily throwing Torunn into a wall, but surprisingly well rested.

He sat up, knowing that his hair was probably sticking up in a million different directions, and glanced at his three siblings, one of which who was helping herself up from the floor.

"Sorry…"

His voice was croaky and dry, and he swallowed, wishing he had some water.

His brothers and sister were staring at him now, and he slowly came upon the realization that their faces were tense and unsettled, Torunn's especially, and that there was none of the usual teasing commentary on waking up on the wrong side of the bed, just silence.

He frowned, rubbed at his eye. There was another thing missing from the picture as well.

"Wha's going on? ...Where's Francis?"

Immediately, all their faces fell. Pym looked up at him mournfully.

"We were hoping that you would know."

James sat up, kicking the blankets off of himself and glancing at the clock besides him. The red numbers blinked up at him; 7: 19 A.M..

It was way too early in the morning to be dealing with any of this. James just wanted to _sleep_ \- but maybe not, maybe not, nightmares made sleep less appealing in every way- but he couldn't, because he was the leader, and leaders sacrificed for their team to make everyone work well and safely together, including sacrificing a few more hours of the first good sleep one had had in weeks.

Slowly he stood up, pulling absentmindedly at the loose shoulder sleeve of his too big t-shirt. He was pretty sure it was one of Tony's, and he was definitely sure that he didn't care; the shirt was _comfortable_ , and so help him he was going to steal it and keep it as his own.

"Are you sure he's not training in the gym?"

The gym was a massive room three floors down, filled with dozens of workout machines and dozens more survival training tests. Tony had thought of everything for everyone, filling the massive room to the brim with more things and tests and exercises than any one human could do in one lifetime, to the point in which they were unsure if they could even get away with calling it a gym.

Pym had suggested calling it the Death Room, and they had been all for it, until Tony had reminded them of the press and the field day they would have if any of them slipped in an interview and called the massive chamber that, and so the idea had been vetoed and they had kept with 'the gym.'

Francis loved the place, and could often be found there every morning at the crack of dawn when any sensible person would be sleeping. Sometimes, they lost him for hours at a time, only to find him deep within the mechanical depths of some training exercise or another.

"After I woke up, I went to his room to ask him for a spar, but he wasn't there, so I went to the gym and looked for him. After half an hour, Pym and Azari joined me."

Torunn's cheeks were slightly flushed, but the steely eye determination in her gaze was nothing to sneeze at, even if it was partly clouded by concern.

"We scoured the entire thing from top to the bottom, and the training log had no indication of him entering; we're pretty sure."

Azari's brows were furrowed in worry, hands anxiously wringing each other.

"And James?"

That was Pym, his eyes blown wide.

"We couldn't find his suit anywhere either."

And it was then that his mind flashed back to the night before, to Francis and his preoccupied manner, to Francis and his _Just wanted to check in_ 's, to Francis, who never did anything for no reason at all.

And it was then, upon realizing just what must have happened last night, that James swore.

The others glanced at each other, eyes blown wide. Something was going on.

"He came in here last night. Francis did. I think he was gonna tell me something- that he had figured out the lead- but I was… I was kind of preoccupied and tired and so he didn't. And now he's gone off to check everything out on his own."

Pym was looking up at him still, his brown eyed gaze now heavy with worry.

"So what are we gonna do?"

James bit his lips, hesitating, wishing Tony was there if only so the dependent eyes would move off of him.

"I think… I think what we ought to do is this. We'll suit up, we'll eat something, and yes, that's not optional,"no one in their little group were particularly big breakfast eaters, often choosing early morning training instead, but they needed the energy if this was going to expand into a full blown rescue mission, "and then we'll head over to the supercomputer and find out if Francis has looked anything up or given us any clue as to where he is. Kay?" *****

After a murmur of assent, they rushed out of the room, assumedly to get ready, and James was left alone.

Sighing, the ginger ran a hand through his flyaway hair.

It was going to be a long day.

And if ten minutes later they all trampled into the dining room, only to freeze at the sight of the innocent note laying on top of the table, then that was no one's business.

And if they all read that note and immediately headed off to the supercomputer to find out just exactly who Lacey Xenos was, then James could tolerate that, because it could be important for the mission.

And if Torunn mentioned how the girl had been oddly attached to Francis when they had rescued her from the building, sticking close to their sides as long as possible, always watching when she thought she was not being watched, as if she knew something they did not, well… well James had already known it was going to be a long day, adding a heap load of conspiracy theories of how everything had been staged and planned to get to that very moment would only just make it longer.

And make it longer they did.

Much, much longer.

* * *

Francis woke up in a room made of glass.

His head was pounding and his body was lethargic, and for some odd reason everything he saw had an odd tint of turquoise to it.

He blinked, trying to get rid of the weird colour, only to pause upon the realization that he wasn't alone.

In front of him, on the other side of the glass, stood a little girl. Her eyes were blank, her face was blank beyond the single vivid bruise, and the only sign she was alive at all was the tight grip she had on the small boy standing besides her.

His face was blank, too, but his gaze held a hint of curiosity that seemingly just couldn't be washed away, much like tint of turquoise in Francis' own vision.

"Lacey?"

His voice was dry and cracked.

"Lacey, what's going on, who's this?"

The raven haired girl said nothing, did nothing, simply blinked.

The little boy spoke up, his voice quiet and small, almost shy, even though nothing of the sorts was given away in his expression.

"I'm Lucian."

He didn't say anything else, leaving Francis' first question unanswered.

And then the pair of young children- even though Francis was beginning to suspect that they weren't very child like at all, much like himself- was turning and walking away, bare feet making no noise against the metal, a small red light flashing back at him from the corner of the room.

He stood up slowly, realizing that his weapons and utility belt were missing, realizing he was alone, even as a voice spoke from somewhere above him, echoing to fill the space of his glass chamber, loud and robotic and smooth, like a businessman discussing a pleasant lunch.

"Ah, Mr. Barton, what a pleasure that you could join us."

Francis scowled.

"Who's there? Are you Mr. Xenos?"

The voice laughed, but there was no mirth in its tone at all.

"Clever boy, aren't you, Mr. Barton? But not clever enough."

He didn't deign that comment with a response, instead choosing to ask his own questions.

"What the hell do you want with me? What did you have to do with the robots? Did you make them?"

Now the voice sounded amused, but the sickly kind, the kind that could only hint at bad tidings.

"I would answer your questions, Mr. Barton, but it appears that I have to deal with some guests at the door. Our little chat will have to be postponed…"

Mentally, he started swearing up a storm. His friends, he had left a note for them and his friends had followed him, because he hadn't been back by four and they had gotten worried. He had led them right into the lion's den.

"Don't you dare hurt them- _Don't you dare_ \- If you hurt them I'm going to bloody-"

There was a click; the speaker had been shut off. The conversation was over.

Francis slumped to the ground, folding into a cross legged position and staring at the glass walls of his prison.

There was another click, the flick of a light switch, and the measly glow illuminating his cage vanished into nothing, and he was left in darkness once more.

The stage was set, and the curtains were rising. The show was about to begin.

Unseen and unheard, two pairs of green eyes watched from above. The younger of the two looked up at the elder, small jaw clenching as thin lips frowned.

"Lacey… Are you sure we gotta do this?"

The little girl stared at the dark lump that was the glass chamber below. Her voice was soft when she answered, but hard, and in the dark no one could see the hesitation in her eyes.

"Yeah. Come on, Lucian. Dad's gonna get upset if we don't appear at the right time. Do you still have that cover up?"

"Mmhmm. Dad's stupid. Why's he punching you in the face? Those bruises are hard to hide."

Small fingers flickered up to touch at the tender purple flesh.

"Cause it hurts the most. Now hurry up, we're going to be late."

The two bare feet scampered off into the darkness, past construction cranes and half finished robots and gleaming white completed ones.

And they didn't look back.

Above ground and outside, a group of four gazed wearily on the immaculate building in front of them. The lawn was neat, the window panes clean, and the building itself grand and old, the picture of extravagant wealth if not for the odd aura given off from it.

"Are you sure this is it, Azari?"

The dark skinned boy glanced at the coordinates.

"Yes, James, we're here."

And the ginger frowned, because _something wasn't right,_ and one red gloved hand played with the device that would activate his shield.

"Alright, let's go."

And they walked into the house, the door falling softly shut behind them.

The play began.

And no one was any wiser.

 **...**

 **Soooo? What did ya think? THINGS ARE BUILDING UP MY FRIENDS! GAHHH!**

 **Notes:**

 ***** _I'm taking liberal writer's authority here and saying that Francis doesn't really know this yet, because he's still learning about the group dynamic and because he never ends up at the breakfast table either and always wakes up uber early, he's still assuming that the rest of them eat breakfast when really they don't._

 **A HUGE SPARKLY THANK YOU AND FREE ICE CREAM FOR ALL MY LOVELY REVIEWERS! :D :D :D Guest to Megan, Fangirlingovermarvel,** **Shiranai Astune, Luckylucyloves, Lobelialoved, Tannerthemanner, Jullie, and Tiffany, I'm looking at you guys! You all are absolutely the best! :D :D :D THANK YOUUUUU!**

 **To Guest to Megan: Hi there, my friend! First of all, thank you so much for your kind words and your lovely review! I'm so glad that you are enjoying the story so far and that you are liking all the characters. :) I'm also happy that I'm doing my job right and keeping you entertained and happy and curious; I hope this chapter answers some of your questions, or at least leaves you wanting for more! And I must admit, writing James like that really was one of my favorite bits of the chapter because James and Francis bromance is a beautiful thing that should be adored and protected at all costs. :) Thanks again for the review!**

 ** _To Luckylucyloves:_** OH MY GOSH YOU ARE SO ENTHUSIASTIC AND YOUR REVIEW WAS LIKE THIS BREATH OF FRESH AIR THAT KINDA HIT ME IN THE FACE BUT FELT NICE EITHER WAY! HERE IS YOUR UPDATE MY FRIEND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!

 _ **To Lobelialoved:**_ Hello there, love! Tis an adorable observation you make, I must admit, but all things are not what they seem, or are they? DUN DUN DUUUUUNNN! Anywho, thanks for the review! :)

 _ **To Tannerthemanner**_ : I LIKE YOUR NAME BECAUSE IT RHYMES! Also, HERE'S YOUR UPDATE I HOPE YOU ARE ABLE TO SURVIVE NOW! :D :D :D Thanks for the patience and thanks for the review!

 _ **To Julie**_ : Greetings my friend! Here is your requested update! Thanks for the review! :D *hugs*

 _ **To Tiffany**_ : NO! DON'T DIE! HERE, HERE, HERE'S THE NEXT UPDATE! BREATHE, TIFFANY, BREATHE! ALSO, THANKS FOR THE REVIEW! :)

 ***wipes forehead* That was a surprising amount of guest reviewers! Thanks for your support, guys!**

 **Also, thanks to all my other lovely readers, even if you don't review! :)**

 **Till next time,**

 **Mashpotatoe Queen**


	6. Shadows and Light

***door creaks open* Uh... hi?**

 **I have no excuses behind the fact that currently my life hates me and I hate it but I love you all too much to abandon you.**

 **So here is your next chapter. It's over 4000 words. I hope that makes up a little for the unintentional hiatus.**

 **I really love you guys. I hope you like it. Big kudos to Shiranai Astune for the inspiration!**

 **...**

" _Are you sure this is it, Azari?"_

 _The dark skinned boy glanced at the coordinates._

" _Yes, James, we're here."_

 _And the ginger frowned, because something wasn't right, and one red gloved hand played with the device that would activate his shield._

" _Alright, let's go."_

 _And they walked into the house, the door falling softly shut behind them._

 _And no one was any wiser._

"Hello!? Anybody home!?"

Azari put a hand on the youngest member's shoulder, placing a silent finger to his lips as his eyes anxiously flickered across the odd house and its darkened walls, the strange silence lingering on his keen ears like a blanket. Something was off about this old mansion, and the gesture was an indication for quiet until the _why_ could be found and revealed.

Sadly, those precise factors would not be understood until just a little too late.

(And seconds, as everyone knows, can be the difference between the relief of survival and the mourning of death.)

James, from ahead, stood ramrod straight. His brows were furrowed in a concerned manner, sharp eyes flickering back and forth across the grand, musty entranceway as they tried to figure out the house's secrets, the quiet indicators that something was wrong. Something was niggling at the corner of his mind, quiet thoughts on how it was simply too silent to be anything unsuspicious, blue orbs lingering on the 'X' insignias popping out from every corner, ominous and soundless stationary guards.

Torunn followed behind, fists clenched and face heavy set and angry. If one were to look at her, they would very likely be terrified and think it best to run somewhere far, far away. The rest of the Avengers, however, knew that the expression came simply from worry and nerves, a missing boyfriend ad no one to blame it for beyond a house that subtly screamed _WRONG!_ about it.

When Pym opened his mouth yet again to call out, all it took was a unanimous look from the rest of his teammates to quickly close it again with a snap. So he, too, fell into silence. An anxious sort of silence that indicated no good tidings.

And so focused was their small, quiet group, that they did not realize they were not alone until a sudden voice spoke out from the darkness.

"Who are you?"

The voice was quiet and incredibly young, and not a second later the owner of it appeared before them.

The Avengers blinked, suddenly startled into their fighting positions and then sheepishly falling from them.

The green-eyed, black-haired kid blinked back, face the picture of curiosity.

"Lucian, who are you talking to?"

Lucian looked up, his hair falling ever so slightly into his face.

"I dunno. They're weird, though."

And then Mr. Xenos himself was before them. A tall man, he stood several inches above Torunn- the tallest member of their little family. He, too, had brilliant green eyes and slicked back black hair. He was clean shaven and dressed in a simple suit, as if expecting company.

James took the lead, fully settling himself into a relaxed, loose position, but very obviously alert and on guard. He did not shake the proffered hand.

"We're the Avengers. I'm sorry to intrude, Sir, but one of our teammates is missing and we have good indication that the cause of this might have occurred here. Would you mind if we looked around?"

Mr. Xenos laughed and smiled, but there was something wrong in the glint of his eye. Something cold and distant, almost angry in the dim lights of the entry way.

"I know who you are, Avengers. Please, feel free to look around all you need. You have my deepest condolences about your friend. Lacey! Come here, please, and show our guests around!"

And as if she had formed from the shadows, the young girl appeared before them. She smiles brightly, and- as if in a silent pantomime- crooked her finger Avengers, in response, glanced silently at each other, for there was still a strange heaviness in the air, a sense of something being imminently wrong.

But they could find no evidence, no proof, of their hunch, and so they turned and followed the young girl's quickly disappearing form, Lucian trailing after and Mr. Xenos luminescent green eyes fixed upon them all.

And so they went forewards, Lacey being a rather hospital host, indicating to all the different rooms and locations and explaining what they were and how they were used, smiling up at the young heroes with eyes that were bright but somehow always… off.

The group who followed after her, for the most part, stayed silent. Worry was gnawing at them, fusing with their hearts until every beat became a constant rhythm of concern. Their friend was missing, their brother, their comrade in arms, and they were, they were touring a house and poking into dusty old rooms. The slow paced actions jittered at their bones, the need to do something ever prominent, until at last it broke free.

"Can't we go any faster!?"

The elder members turned as a single unit towards the youngest.

"Pym!"

At the sound of the exasperated cries, Pym's face flushed red and he brought a hand up to run a hand at his neck.

"Or- or, I guess, we can just keep going like this…"

James sighed, pinched at his nose. His shoulders felt too tense, stress and unsettlement over the entire scenario weighing down upon them, but for the life of him he couldn't seem to relax.

His mind flashed back, back to the darkened bedroom and Francis' quiet, almost non-existent hesitation before the words, "Just wanted to check in. Glad I did," and he cursed himself and his own moments of weakness.

He had to be better, to be stronger.

"It's fine, Pym. Just… be a little bit more polite, okay?"

Little did he know, two sets of young eyes watched the exchange with silent confusion. Little did he know, but the owners of the eyes were expecting a much different reaction to outspoken words, were expecting yelling and anger and the sounds of flesh on flesh.

And yet… and yet… there had been none of that. There had only been a quick, quiet reminder and a quiet, partially amused, sound of exasperation.

The young minds behind green eyes tried to put the pieces together, tried to figure it out, but they could not.

"Lacey?"

Lacey blinked, looked up, could feel the (fake) smile pull at her lips as she met the intense kind eyes of Torunn.

Torunn, who some odd months ago had flown through the air and swooped down and saved them, who had looked at Hawkeye as if he was one of the most amazing things to have ever existed, softly and quietly and strong, passion and care and love, wrapped up in a swirl of blue orbs.

Hawkeye, who some months ago, had looked back with the exact same look.

It had been a long time since Lacey had seen such a look, so long she almost couldn't remember. Her father had looked like that once, she thought. Smiling that small adoring smile at her mother, a woman long since gone and dead.

And Torunn's eyes stared at her, and there was worry.

"Yes?"

"Pym was being rather… rude, but we would be most grateful if you moved the tour along. My bo- Our friend might be in serious danger."

The younger girl almost said, "Yes, he is," but she didn't. Instead, she nodded and guided them to the next location, mind still wondering on the strange lack of reaction towards the youth of the Avengers when he spoke out of turn.

Lucian watched the scene without a word, mind whirring with questions.

And so they went, arriving at room after room, the Avengers searching the space from top to bottom, and then making their way onwards after yet another failure.

And then they had made a full circle, and there was nothing to be found about their missing companion.

Mr. Xenos waited at the door, gratitude and compliments and quiet hospitality, the same strange glint in his eyes. The children waved goodbye at the door, smile plastered too wide on too small faces.

The door clicked shut and the Avengers were left standing in the yard, the sun slowly rising behind them, the birds beginning to wake from their perches, and the ominous feeling that something was very, very wrong.

But what could they do? They had searched the mansion from top to bottom and had found nothing. _Nothing._ Their lead had come to an end, and their worry for their friend prevented them from even thinking of the strange matching 'X' insignias that could be found all over the house...

"What do we do now?"

And James sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

"I don't know, Azari, but we'll figure it out. We'll find him. Let's just- go back to base. We'll regroup and try something new."

They traded glances, Torunn's fist clenching at her sides.

But there was nothing else they could do.

They left the house and headed home, never knowing that by doing so, they were leaving their missing companion behind, too.

* * *

Lucian stared after the Avengers as they hurried out of the house and into a jet that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. They all looked uneasy and worried, and Lucian would almost feel bad for them, but he wasn't supposed to feel bad for anybody.

His Dad was talking to Lacey. Lucian didn't like it when his Dad talked to Lacey without him; it made her grumpy and worried for days, and almost always she would become snappy and overprotective, never letting Lucian leave her sight. It was stupid.

It was stupid, and Lucian was confused.

Because, because-

Because the smallest one- _Henry Pym, Jr., eleven years old, shrinking and growth capabilities, plasma blasts,_ his mind supplied _-_ hadn't been punished or reprimanded.

Well, he had been reprimanded. But- not correctly. He had been reprimanded with exasperation and underlying fondness presented in the form of a scolding.

And that- didn't make sense.

Where was the yelling? The threats? The breaking of things and the sounds of flesh on flesh? Where was that side of the scolding?

Did they do it separately? Behind closed doors?

But no, no. The youngest had been completely relaxed around his elders, and he was even older than Lucian. If Lucian could learn the rules of silence by the time he was six, then surely the superhero would have learned it.

So it was something different?

Lucian didn't know. And so he sat and he stared out the door, wondering. Wondering what the Avengers did differently. Wondering where they were going wrong with their punishment regime.

Wondering if something was going wrong with his own.

* * *

"You're a rather interesting man, Francis."

Francis made sure to not even flinch, kept his eyes closed and his legs crossed. Calm. He was calm.

"Your friend's seemed to think so, at least."

His eyes snapped open and he was on the feet in mere moments, snarling, whirling around and searching for the owner of the voice, knowing that there would be no one there.

So much for calm.

"What did you _do_ to them? If you hurt them I swear-"

There was a nonchalant shushing noise.

"We've already gone over this. You are not in a position to bargain. Besides…. I don't need them, yet. You can calm your mind; they've gone home."

Francis, with all his being, wished that he could see the man's face. All it took was a twitch, and Francis could tell if someone was telling the truth or lying from five meters away.

But wishing wasn't going to help anything, so he heaved a breath and crossed his arms, eyes still flicking around the room.

"Why are you even doing this? All the Avengers have ever done is help people. We saved your own kid. I don't _understand."_

And he didn't. He really, truly didn't. Which- in all honesty- just made Francis hate the situation more.

The Avengers- as unwilling as he was to admit it- was a superhero group made out of kids and teens shouldering the world's pain and aches and bruises and doing whatever they could to stitch it back together, even though the majority of them hadn't been a part of the destruction until a few months ago. They didn't deserve this.

No one did.

So why was the man who was older than their collective ages combined _trying to hurt them_?

It wasn't fair.

But, then again, it wasn't often that Francis' life was fair, so he supposed that he shouldn't complain.

The voice from the overhead speaker laughed, and he scowled, turning once again, finger clenching and aching for his bow and knowing that it wasn't there to grab.

"Of course you don't understand. You were up living the good life while the rest of us were here losing _everything._ My wife, my wealth- all of it. I lost all of it to Ultron, and the Avengers left and now they have it all. You did nothing, and maybe the rest of the world is willing to let it slide, but _I'm not."_

Francis blinked. He blinked again.

"And then the rage was so sudden and intense it was as if he could feel it crawling its way up his chest.

"I've been leading the resistance for _years._ And our parents are _dead._ They wouldn't have left you if they had _the choice_ -"

" _I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO UNDERSTAND!"_

And for a second Francis felt a rage that he couldn't even describe, because it was one thing to hurt him and his family and it was quite another to do it for an utterly stupid reason and-

And then he took a breath. And then another.

Don't look to a psychopath for logic.

"Ok. Ok. You've got me. What are you going to do now?"

"Get rid of the Avengers. Retake the city. Isn't it obvious?"

Francis frowned, his brows flicking to the very edge of his sight, where he thought he had spotted movement.

"I would say, 'You won't get away with this!' but that seems a little bit too much stereotypical, even if it's true. Besides, what's that got to do with me? Why do you need _me?_ "

Well, first I thought that someone on the inside would be -"

"No."

Francis didn't even think. The word was out of his mouth and in the open air before what exactly the man was even saying registered, and there was a sudden fierce conviction that no matter what Mr. Xenos did, he wouldn't betray his team.

But it didn't quite work out like that, because just as he drew a breath in to further his decisive negative confirmation on the matter- eyes still tracing the almost nonexistent movement in the corner- the voice was echoing around him once again.

"Exactly. I realized that you wouldn't much be one for compliance, and figured that you would make a much better hostage."

Even as something in his chest went cold, Francis was shaking his head.

"Won't work. Didn't you get the memo? I'm the newbie. I'm _expendable."_

There was a humming noise over the speaker, and then the glass sides of his cage were lighting up and the enlarged image of him and Pym was playing through, with Pym throwing himself in for a hug and staring up at him with that _look,_ the one that made Francis out to be some sort of amazing hero when he really, really wasn't.

The reporters. They had filmed them, and it wasn't just for the news.

And then it wasn't Pym. It was Torunn, after the explosion at the peace conference, and her hair was flyaway and her face covered in soot, and they were kissing- and it was so weird to watch himself kiss someone, even if that someone was as beautiful and amazing as Torunn- and he was suddenly filled with an overwhelming want to get out and get to her side.

But the angle was weird, as if the camera was tilted upwards from a much lower vantage point, and Francis realized that there must have been a camera on Lacey's person when they rescued her.

And he was suddenly very aware he had been watched, that his family had been watched, and that Mr. Xenos knew what he was doing.

"I admit that my new plan is a little bit more… complicated, than my first one but-"

"You were the one who bombed the peace conference!"

All of those _people._

Mr. Xenos snorted, and for a moment Francis thought he was going to deny the accusation.

He was wrong.

"Of course not. Lacey and Lucian did; no one ever suspects a couple of kids of mass acts of treason. It's one of the basic facts of life."

And for a second his brain screeched to a halt, because what sort of parent would ever, ever do that?

For a moment, his mind flashed to his dad and his sad tired eyes as he taught him how to shoot a bow and fight and lead, but then he dismissed the thought. That had been different. There had been no _choice._ And yet, and yet-

And yet the monster of a man who was holding him captive was putting little kids into danger, training them to plant _bombs._ Part of him wanted to be upset with the kids, but it _wasn't their fault,_ not really. They were victims.

Lacey had almost _died._

His mind flashed to the bruise that had blossomed on the young girl's face.

It wasn't their fault.

Finally, his mouth formed words and spat them out as if they were killing him to stay inside, and he couldn't even care.

"You're sick. I can't- _why-"_

It was almost easier fighting Ultron. At least its reasonings made sense; a robot can't be empathetic, couldn't have feelings or compassion. (Vision was the exception, of course.) But the man he was talking with had disregarded those, too, and it sort of made Francis want to throw up.

"Maybe, Hawkeye, but there isn't much you can do about it."

The tone was amused, and upon hearing the words and the ensuing click of their ending conversation, Francis had never more wanted to punch someone in the face.

But there wasn't time for that. His family was in danger. Kids were in danger.

Speaking of…

His eyes narrowed and latched onto the corner in which he had spotted movement, baring down on the two slight figures he could just barely see.

"Lacey! Lucian! _Listen to me._ Your dad is a complete psychopath and-"

"No."

Francis paused.

"...No?"

Lacey scowled at him, her youthful features all twisted up and angry, and Lucian's face remained passive, his blue eyes ever so slightly showing the signs of fatigue and exhaustion.

"No. Our dad is our dad. He's _family_. We're blood".

And for a moment he could only stare, but then his head was shaking, ever so slightly in resounding disagreement as well. His mind was flashing backwards, to his team, to his friends, and there was no way in the world that the only way to become family was though being related by blood. Old Hawkeye might have disagreed, but the Hawkeye he was now couldn't even comprehend family as being anything other than a choice.

"Look- Lacey, Lucian- your dad might be blood but he's not _family._ Family looks after each other- they- family is movie nights and silly games and inside jokes and working through problems together and mock wrestling around the couch. Family doesn't hurt each other, doesn't manipulate each other. They just want what's best for you to make you be happy and safe. Your father- he's not _any_ of those things."

And Lacey scowled at him, her eyes fierce and angry and confused and maybe almost feral in a fearful sort of way, and shook her head, slowly backing up and out of the way, fading into the shadows once more.

Francis couldn't help but feel like he had lost her.

But Lucian stayed.

For a moment, the two boys simply stared at each other from opposite sides of the glass.

And then-

"Is that what it's like? For you? With the others?"

And perhaps Francis should deny. He was probably being recorded. This was probably a trap- but still.

But still.

He couldn't say no to a pair of puppy dog eyes.

"I- yeah. Yeah that's how it's like."

Lucian smiled a little, curious eyes brightening ever so slightly even as the boy stood, half shrouded by shadows. He almost looked like a normal kid, not caught up in the strife of his father's revenge plan, not knowledgeable in the setting and exploding of bombs.

"They seemed really nice. Earlier, I mean."

" _Lucian! C'mon; Dad's waiting!"_

And Hawkeye smiled, too.

"They really are. Probably nicer than I deserve. They're nice to everyone."

The brightness enhanced even more before suddenly puttering out.

"They- they must be really worried about you."

" _Lucian! We're gonna get in trouble!"_

Francis' mind flashed to Torunn and her bravery and kindness and strength, who loved so fiercely and protectively that it took his breath away. To James, who had taken the weight of the world on his shoulders and already cared too much. To Azari, wise and quiet and thoughtful, sharing softly sarcastic remarks when he thought no one else could hear and waking up from unconsciousness only to ask if everyone else was alright. To Pym, who beamed and laughed and was like a breath of fresh air, wearing his heart on his sleeve, who looked up at him as if he had done something great and momentous, as if he had hung up the stars and moons above just for his viewing.

And they were all in danger.

He swallowed.

"Yeah- well, I'm worried about them, too."

Lucian opened his mouth, faltered, and then tried again, the breath of a word on his lips before he was suddenly grabbed roughly from behind.

"Lucian! Dad's gonna keep us apart again if we're not up there like _right now."_

They disappeared back into the shadows, vanishing from Francis' line of view, but he was yelling after them anyways, angry and concerned and scared all at once.

"Real families don't use isolation as punishment! Real families don't hit each other! Real families aren't scared of eachoth-"

Somewhere above, there was the sound of a door slamming shut, and Francis was left on his own.

Again.

The lights around him flickered off, and all that he was left was shadows.

Francis closed his eyes and pretended that he could block them out.

* * *

Lucian, contrary to what his sister and father believed, did actually retain some memory of his mother.

She had smelt like strawberries, he remembered, and ever so slightly of soap. She used to hold him for hours on end, whispering stories of places far, far away. Dad used to kiss her, happy and simple and neat, and he and Lacey would squirm and tell them it was gross and they would all laugh.

Now, if he and Lacey complained, they were locked separate from each other in different closets, and sometimes his dad would hit Lacey.

He would sit next to her, sometimes, as she applied makeup on bruises and cuts and scars in a scarily proficient manner, and listen as she explained the marks away.

"He was just teaching me a lesson, Lucian. That's all. Don't worry about it."

But Lucian did. He was pretty sure that his older sister wasn't supposed to be so old yet, hoisting around a tired soul in a youthful body.

But he also never said anything.

 _Family doesn't hurt each other._

But his family did.

Maybe Lucian shouldn't listen to the hero- the prisoner? It was probably just a game like his Dad played, pulling strings so that he would get what he want.

Lucian wasn't supposed to care.

But the Avengers- they _had_ been nice. They had been ever so clearly worried and stressed, but they weren't mean. They didn't hit or yell or scold. They just had- small exasperated sighs and deep breaths and explanations and worried looks and kind, if not a little strained, smiles. And Hawkeye _had_ been happy to talk about them, to describe them. He sounded like he wanted to be with them, like he was worried about them, too.

If Lucian could help it, he tried to avoid his Dad at all costs.

 _It didn't make sense._

Unless, that is, unless what the hero had been saying was true.

Maybe his family wasn't a family anymore.

Maybe his family had broken when his mom had died.

Maybe they were so shattered that even blood couldn't keep them together.

But the Avengers weren't broken. Not yet, at least. They still had each other's backs. They still _cared_.

Lucian could fix _them._ He could put them back together. He could be a _hero._

Hawkeye had said they were nice. That they were nice to everyone.

Maybe they would be nice to Lucian, too.

And so he got out of bed and crept down the hallway to his dad's office, where he opened the computer and checked the coordinates of the tracking device that had been planted on the smallest one's suit. That was where the Avenger's were. That was their base.

Coordinates in hand, he quietly exited the office once more and slipped away, sliding on his shoes and creeping out of the dark and dreary house into the crisp windy night, and as he strolled underneath the streetlamps, bathed in the pale luminescent glow, he couldn't help the grin that slowly took over his features.

Finally, Lucian would be doing something _right._

 ** _..._**

 ** _Aaaaaaaand_ DONE.**

 **Ok, deep breath.**

 **Big thank you to livingwithbooks for favoriting/following. :) You are wonderful, my friend, and I too live with books as my main source of survival...**

 **HUGE MASSIVE FLASHY FANTABULOUS THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL READERS AND REVIEWERS WHO'S SMALL NOTES ON ENCOURAGEMENT KEPT ME ALIVE AS I FINALLY GOT OFF OF MY LAZYNESS THRONE AND GOT WRITING. I LOVE YOU TO PIECES. Tannerthemanner, Fangirlingovermarvel, Tori** (Oh my heebilus jeebilus Tori you are the best I swear I love you so much) **Jomipry, Seansculs, Julie,** (And yes I love you so much too oh my gods you are amazing) **Guest, Lobelialoved, and lastly,** **PLEASEUPDATEGUES** , **I am looking at all of you, and thanking you.**

 **You guys have given me such encouragement and love for this fic, and I really appreciate how you didn't just give up on it and on me.**

 **TO Tannerthemanner: **Haha; I'm so very glad that you like my name! I hope I didn't manage to kill you with my eternal hiatus, either! But you're a strong one. I have faith in you. (And yes, James needs to let his friends love him. I agree 100%)

 **TO Tori:** Tori? Tori can I hug you? Can I like hug you forever and thank you for your periodic notes and reviews acting as reminders for this fic that I had left abandoned alone in the closet along with my spirit until started knocking? You are a wonderful smol bean, my friend. Purely precious. And yes, both Franny and James are such smol beans, too, and yes, Mr. X doeSN'T KNOW WHAT 'S COMIN FOR HIM ONCE TORUNN FIGURES OUT WHAT HE'S DONE.

 ** _TO Jomipry:_** I tried. I failed. If you see this, I am so, so sorry that you had to wait so long. :( I hope you liked the update, even if it was after an extended absence...

 ** _TO_ ** _Seansculs_** : **Thank you so much! I'm so glad that you found my fic awesome sauce, dude, and that you use that term of description in general. I'm also very happy to hear that you enjoy how I portray the characters and the plot! I hope you like this chapter, too.

 ** _TO Julie:_** I want to hug you so much, you have no idea. Your reviews and enthusiastic calls for updates were like a breath of fresh air. I adored them and they gave me the determination to pick myself back up and _do_ something. I really, really appreciate that. I hope that the wait wasn't too traumatizing!

 ** _TO Lobelialoved_** : Here is your overjoy! Sorry for the delay... I hope you like these Torunn and Francis moments just as much, even if they are being kept apart...

 ** _TO GUEST:_** Awww; I'm so happy you're liking the fic. I'm sorry for the long update time! :( I included a bit more Torunn and Francis here, darling, but not as much as there will be in the next chapter/next two chapters, depending on how long I take to end this fic. I hope that's okay!

 _ **TO**_ ** _PLEASEUPDATEGUES:_ ** I DID IT I UPDATED I'M SO SORRY I KEPT YOU WAITING FOR SO LONG I HOPE YOU ARE OKAY NOW DO NOT FORGET TO BREATHE.

 **Man. That was a lot of guests! :) I'm not complaining though...**

 **Thank you so much to anyone who read or reviewed or favorited or followed. You guys made my day. Sorry again for the long wait.**

 **The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	7. Sometimes You're Just Too Late

**Soooo... It's been, quite literally, more than a year since I have updated this fic.**

 **I am so so sorry.**

 **Life has just been- hectic. There were a lot of major changes going through my life and as such I just didn't have it in me to create much new content, instead fixing up old stuff I have written or planned out before hand.**

 **I'm really sorry for the long wait, everyone. Know this story is not and never will be abandoned until I finish it. It takes me a while, sometimes, but I won't leave anyone behind.**

 **If you're still here with me, I am, frankly, amazed, and more than a little honoured.**

 **As always, massive shout out to Shiranai Astune. Thank you for lending me modified versions of your OC's and this idea!**

 **Hope you enjoy this next part! It's over eight thousand words, so maybe you can take that as a bit of an apology for my suckiness. :)**

 *****WARNINGS*****

 **This chapter DOES contain mentions of abuse, muggings, and attempted sexual assault. There are also several mentions of blood and of previous deaths of minor characters. None of these things occur to the actual Avengers- instead other OC people of passing mention- and almost everything is not explicitly described in any manner that is very brief. STILL, if these things could trigger you in any way, please proceed with caution!**

 **...**

It was dark. Pitch black, and Francis was starting to see colours that weren't really there, his mind playing tricks on him in effort to make him see _something._

It was annoying. And, needless to say, a bit concerning.

He breathed harshly through his nose. Tensed up all his muscles, let them fall lose, and then closed his eyes.

Not that it made a difference, but at least it made him feel less insane.

At one point, there had been clanking and pounding and the sounds of heavy machinery. It had been loud, ridiculously loud, and Francis had listened to it as the whirring and almost overbearing humming had filled the massive underground chamber, vibrating the walls of his container until he had felt the need to plug his ears and hunker down in a corner, trying to count his breaths and push back against the sense of his heart pounding too hard in his chest.

The pistons had been hammering and hissing, all around him, and all Francis had been able to do was close his eyes and tell himself again and again, _this is not a battlefield, this is not a battlefield,_ because he remembered, he _remembered,_ how it felt like to be exposed in a mass of patrolling robots whose only goal was to destroy him and his team.

You couldn't be exposed there. You couldn't hesitate, couldn't falter, you just had to _go,_ because otherwise you were as good as dead.

When Francis had been ten, a small four year old had wandered out of their base and into the open sunlight, chasing a small bug as it skittled away. She had been gunned down in moments, and Francis still remembered just opening his mouth and- screaming. Silently.

 _Silently_. He hadn't even been able to scream out loud because he knew- _he knew_ \- that if he did that, if he did that, the little girl wouldn't have been the only person killed that day.

The sound had cranked on for hours, and Francis had sat there, feeling as if that scream was still trapped in his throat, waiting to escape, waiting to be released into the air and get everyone he knew and loved _killed-_

Eventually, there had been silence, and he had his his face in his knees and breathed ragged breaths until his ears had stopped ringing and the air had stopped rattling in his lungs.

How long had he been in here? A day? Two days? He felt like it had been ages since the lights had last turned on. He felt like it had been _years._

He was exhausted, he knew. Getting to a point that it would be dangerous if he entered a conflict zone. But at the same time, he couldn't _help_ it, because no matter how he tried he couldn't get himself to rest, couldn't get himself to relax. Everytime he got close, that awful voice would start whispering in his ear, reminding him he was a hostage, reminding him that his friends were in _danger_ -

And, well, it was impossible to sleep after that.

For a while, Francis had paced, up and down and back and forth, marching around the small glass room like a lion in a cage. But then his tiredness and the stumbling darkness had made him falter in even that, and he had sat down on the floor, trying to figure out how to escape.

Except, except-

Without his bow and arrows, without his utility belt, Francis Barton was a very, very limited hero. He wasn't crazy flexible or crazy strategic like James. He wasn't a supergenius like Pym, or carrying around his own personal taser embedded into his skin like Azari was. He wasn't as incredible strong like Torunn-

Torunn.

 _God,_ he missed her. He missed her so much and he didn't even know what to _do_ about it. He missed her smile, he missed her laugh, he missed the way her eyes settled into that determined look right before a battle. He missed her strength, her steady presence, her ridiculous jokes and- and-

He missed all of them. He wanted to just go home- _When had their little hideout become home?_ \- and watch a film and watch Pym and Azari's antics and make James _sleep_ for once in his fricken' life and kiss Torunn like, a _lot-_

" _What did you do with him!?"_

In moments, Francis found himself stumbling to his feet. Suddenly, all the lights were on and blazing- _blinding, they were blinding, he couldn't see a thing, and he felt as if every minuscule molecule of him was exposed, was i r-_ and he wasn't alone, because there was Lacey's high voice being shrieked out at him.

She sounded angry. She sounded _furious-_

She sounded scared.

Francis rubbed at his eyes frantically, trying to make the blurred vision and sudden headache go away.

"Who? What the hel-" wait, Lacey was even younger than Pym, that wouldn't work, "heck. What the _heck_ are you talking about?"

Someone banged on the glass, and Francis' watering eyes could just make out the small form of the dark haired girl as she snarled at him.

"Lucian," she hissed, something high and panicked in her tone, " _Lucian,_ he's missing and it's all your fault-"

Francis blinked rapidly, something like worry churning in his gut.

"I didn't do anything to him! Lacey- I promise you- I promise you I didn't do anything to him. But if you let me out I'll help you look for him, okay? I'll help-"

"No- no I- I can't. I can't. Dad- _Lucian-_ "

She was staring at him, glaring at him, her hands gripping and releasing the sleeves of her shirt. In the bright lighting, the bruise on her face stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. Her green eyes were narrowed and her features cold, but Francis could see the way her feet shifted, the way her hands trembled.

She was trained, yes, but worry was making her sloppy, making her slip.

He wanted to punch someone, preferably Mr. Xenos.

Who did that? Who- who _did_ that? Who took their children and hurt them like that? Who placed such weight on their shoulders that they were crushed beneath the staggering heaviness?

How could you look at your own child and make them a pawn to your own agenda, your own war?

 _His mind flickered back, back, to large calloused palms on his small smooth ones. "'This is how you shoot," his father had said. And they had shot arrow after arrow, time and time again, until Francis's hands bled. And Clint had wrapped them up, something grim and tired in his features, something pained, and told him to push through, push through, don't slip up because then you'll be dead-_

 _That's different,_ Francis thought, _there was no choice, there was no choice, you do what you have to do in order to survive._

Lacey stared up at him, bruises on her face and snarl in her throat and fear in the hunch of her shoulders. This is a girl who set up a bomb in a building filled with hundreds of people. This is a girl who led him to being kidnapped, who was instrumental to a plan that could get him and his friends _killed._

…. This was a girl who was doing what she had to do in order to survive.

So Francis looked at her, took a deep breath, and when he spoke his voice was so gentle it almost hurt.

"Yes- you can. Lacey, you're brother could be in serious trouble if we don't-"

"No. N-no. I can't. I can't, I can't, I _can't-_

She was trembling all over now, glancing slightly over her right shoulder before focusing again on Francis. He blinked, eyes narrowing, and peaked at the darkness that lay beyond.

He couldn't say anything, so he turned back to the young girl standing in front of him.

"Lacey-"

" _NO!_ None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me and _left_ when I told you to-"

He blinked. Blinked again. Just listened? What-

And then he remembered. Her bright fearful face, staring up at him in pale moonlight.

He _remembered._

 _You don't understand! You gotta go, now! Otherwise he'll-_

She had _tried,_ had tried to get him out before it was too late. And he hadn't listened to her, because he was too concerned about her bruises, too determined to follow his lead…

But she had tried. She had _tried._

It gave Francis hope, because it was probably too late for _him,_ but maybe it wasn't too late for _her._

Her father's twisted words and twisted punishments had been ingrained in her head, but maybe he could still save her heart?

He didn't know, but he had to try.

Also, he had to stop reading so much of Torunn's Norse Epics. They were making him _way_ too poetic and mushy for his tastes.

Lacey had stepped forward now, in those split second moments that it had taken him to recall what she had been referring to, in those split second moments where he had decided that he wouldn't give up on her, this girl with the too old eyes and broken pieces she had shoved under a rug so that the rest of the world wouldn't be able to see, too scared that they would take the shards and simply grind them down to dust instead of gluing everything back together.

Lacey had stepped forward, and her green eyes were like glass.

"Everything was fine until you _heroes_ showed up. Everything was- fine. But now, now Dad's angry all the time, even worse than before, and Lucian is- Lucian is in trouble, and he's- Dad's going to- going to-"

Something cold stabbed at Francis' heart.

"Lacey?"

She stayed silent, all the blood drained from her cheeks, looking at something that no one else could see.

"Lacey, what's he going to do?"

She tilted her face, _staring_ at him, face drawn and pale like she had just seen a ghost.

"He says that if I can't get Lucian to follow the rules, he's going to kill him."

* * *

Torunn stared around the room. It was sparse, lacking in decoration and in posters, lacking in _anything_ really that would signify it as belonging to Francis. In fact, it it weren't for the small stand made for his bow and arrows tucked away besides the bed- easily accessible in case of attack, her analytical mind noted- it could have very well been a guest room.

But the sheets smelled like him, and the closet was filled with the sparse items of clothing that he owned. She knew that there was a hidden latch in one of the drawers where he kept a picture of him and his father, the Archer. She knew, too, that the sole pillow one the bed was left unused each night because he still wasn't used to having a _mattress,_ much less pillows and comforters.

…. She knew, too, that it had been over 36 hours since Francis Barton had been seen.

(Some part of her, the part of her not afraid to admit that she was keeping track, murmured _38 hours, 43 minutes, 19 seconds, and counting._ She ignored it.)

She was angry. She was _furious._ Why had he not gotten her? Was it a matter of trust? A matter of- of what? Stupid _pride_? She could have helped. She _would_ have helped. She was a warrior, a daughter of Thor, she was _strong-_

She was… scared.

 _Gods_ , she was scared.

She wanted to _do something_ , to fly and search the city, to fight, to find her stupid boyfriend and _bring him back._

But nobody knew where he was. Their one lead had gone dry and there were no other trails to follow, and Pym was hacking what few street cameras that had been set up so far to try and figure out where he could be, but even _that_ wasn't going to be very helpful because they all knew Francis preferred to travel by rooftops and there weren't likely going to be any cameras up _there._

And she couldn't even go out searching, because James hadn't wanted anyone to be alone outside of the base, because it was too _dangerous-_ never mind that Torunn was a warrior, nevermind that she was probably one of the most proficient at battle, nevermind that Torunn was smart and quite literally one of the gods-

James had looked at her while she had been arguing with him, the bags under his eyes deep and present, his straight-backed shoulders for once hunched and drawn. He had looked so, so tired, and she had wondered if he had slept any since this whole ordeal had begun.

(He hadn't, she knew. But, then again, neither had she.)

"Torunn," he had said, and his voice had _cracked, "please."_

And Torunn had breathed, breathed, fast and hard and heavy and something panicked in the pounding in her chest, and said okay.

The small, relieved smile James had given her had made it almost worth it.

Almost.

Part of her, the part of her dubbed _Emotions_ that she struggled with every day, that went mushy whenever Francis kissed her and wanted to keep Pym safe because sometimes he just seemed _so young_ and loved whenever Azari put on light shows and still sort of looked to Tony as this untouchable person to keep her safe even though she'd seen him bruised and bloody and _broken-_

Part of her wondered when she had last seen James not tired. Part of her wondered when she had last seen James smile, really smile, when she had last seen him stand tall because he had wanted to and not because it was the only way he felt he could bear the weight of the world and not _shatter._

"Okay," she had said. "Okay."

And she had meant it. She was a warrior, a daughter of Asgard: she was not another burden to be placed on her brother's shoulders.

But at the same time, at the same time-

At the same time, she was listless and frustrated. Because Francis, _Francis_ -

Francis made her feel like she could pick up a thousand suns. He made her feel like she _was_ a thousand suns, bright and burning, as if a million of lifetimes with him still wouldn't be enough.

And he was _gone._

He was gone, and Torunn didn't know what to do with herself if she couldn't go after him. She didn't know what she would do if she found out that they were _too late-_

One time, when Torunn had been patrolling, a mugger had stabbed an old man and ran off. There had been so much blood everywhere, and Torunn had called for back up even as she had dropped to her knees and placed her hands in position to keep pressure on the wound, to keep the blood inside where it was supposed to be.

By the time the emergency vehicle had arrived, the man had already been long dead. The paramedic- who had been young when he had first started and only now with Ultron gone was getting his chance in the field- had patted her shoulder and held out a rag to wipe her bloodied hands with, telling her _Sometimes, you're just too late._

 _You're just too late._

She couldn't be too late this time. Not with Francis. Not with her _family._ Not this time, not this time, please not this time...

In some ways- in some ways this was even worse then when Tony was kidnapped, because- because-

Because with Tony they _knew._ They knew, they could take steps towards fixing things, to getting him back, to making it _right._ They could be the heroes they were meant to be and rescue him, bring him home, make themselves whole again and-

And-

And here they had no clue. They had no way to even start and it was _killing_ her.

The couldn't know, she couldn't know, and how is it that not knowing is so much worse than being afraid?

 _There is no rationality with this,_ she thought, _no standards to hold things to, no ways to reassure oneself, because Francis could be anywhere, with anyone and-_

 _And-_

Torunn laid down on the mattress and breathed, breathed.

The sheets smelled like him, and her eyes watered and she bawled her firsts angrily to wipe at the tears before they could even think to fall.

Francis had taught her to dance in here. Or, rather, Francis had seen her watching a couple dancing in some old film that Tony had put on for them and had dragged her here, where they shared stale fruit loops leftover from breakfast and then clumsily swung each other around the room, neither of them really knowing what they were doing and neither of them really caring.

There had been no music, but Francis had been laughing and it was all the melody Torunn had ever needed to hear.

...there was no laughter now. No melody. Just cold, lonely silence and the lingering smell of someone who was no longer there.

* * *

"Lacey… that's not right. You know that's not right. That's not _okay-"_

Lacey glanced behind her shoulder, looked back at him, bit her lip, shook her head. She was seriously shaking now, the only remains of her mask the lack of clear emotion on her face. Francis wondered how long she had waited until she had given up hope that someone could save her, could save her brother. Francis wondered how if they had been quicker, if the Avengers had found Lacey and Lucian a few months ago, when all of this had begun at that stupid Peace Conference, would they have listened to them? Could they have prevented this?

He didn't know. Couldn't know. Just like he couldn't know about Ultron finding their base and killing his dad, the way the older archer would carefully grab Francis by the shoulders, switch out their bow and arrows, and shout over the whirring robots around them to _Go, go, I'll hold them off but you have to go, Francis, do you hear me? Don't worry about me- don't come back here, just go and don't stop. Take care of them, take care of yourself, I love you, I love you-_

(He had gone back. Of course he had gone back. All there had been was blood and ruin, and the pale corpse of a man who had once meant home.)

Just like he couldn't know about these- kids. Children. Showing up out of the blue with powers beyond what Francis could imagine possible, even with his Dad's stories. Francis had never believed those tales, of those godly beings who walked the earth like men and kept the world safe and happy and good. How could he? All he had ever known was destruction. But then- those kids had shown up, with their lightning and strength and size manipulations, and he had thought, _okay, okay,_ and felt something that might have been hope for the first time in his life.

(And now they were home, a new home that was strange and different and nothing like his old one, but good nonetheless. And all Francis could think of was that he couldn't lose this, couldn't go through that loss and devastation again, couldn't live with himself if he somehow got them hurt-)

If they were in danger, Francis wondered, was there anything he would not do?

Lacey stared up at him, trembling all over, face like a ghost, and he thought the answer was hidden in her bright green orbs, because in that sense they were the same: they would do anything to keep their families safe.

"The Avengers would protect you, Lacey, we would keep you and your brother safe, your dad wouldn't be able to hurt you guys ever again."

But she was shaking her head, slow and careful, mouth set in a thin line, eyes beginning to narrow. Francis felt his heart sink: she didn't believe him. Whatever power Mr. Xenos had- be it real or an illusion implemented in her head through years of threats and abuse- it was far greater than any perceived capabilities of some teenage heroes.

Francis used to believe that about his own father. No matter how powerful Ultron got, no matter how many times he saw the man fall, his dad always seemed to get back up, and he used to think him invincible.

Look how that turned out.

"No," she whispered, voice hoarse and eyes dark, because sometimes your heroes are made of paper and the monsters are the ones no one can destroy, the ones who always get back up, "no, you'll just get us in trouble. You're going to get Lucian _killed…"_

She glanced back over her shoulder to that same corner she had been frequenting looks at all throughout their discussion, and then she looked forwards at Francis once more, face resolute.

She took a step back, and then another.

And then she disappeared.

 _I could have helped you,_ Francis thought, but he said nothing.

Sometimes, you're just too late.

* * *

Torunn curled up her fingers into a fist, glared up at the ceiling, and very carefully resisted the urge to destroy the entire room until all that was left was dust and rubble, as if that would somehow bring him back, as if that would somehow make things _right-_

"Torunn?"

She closed her eyes, felt ashamed: no one should have to see her like this.

 _Some hero,_ she thought, _some hero._

"Go away, Pym."

Pym, as usual, ignored her. He padded inside the too empty bedroom, feet only making sounds to her over sensitive ears. She counted his steps, and very purposely didn't open her eyes when she knew he was standing right besides her at the side of the bed.

Undeterred, the younger boy crawled onto the mattress and squirmed up to her side. For once, he was quiet, and Torunn hated how worried that made her, hated how much emotions _hurt,_ hated how much she cared.

He curled up around her, resting his head on her shoulder, and at first she stayed still and tensed. She wanted him to leave. She wanted to be alone. She wanted everything to stop, or at least for her to be able to _do something_.

But she couldn't. That was the problem, wasn't it? Someone she loved was in danger, and she could do nothing about it.

Eventually, slowly, the tension escaped out of her body. Pym was breathing, soft and fast and high and low, and Torunn breathed with him. They laid on that bed that had started to smell like home and breathed together.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?"

Pym's voice was small, when it filtered through the silence, like the last whine of an emptying balloon. Torunn felt her throat close up, cleared it, closed her fists and let it loose.

"I don't know, Pym."

He was frowning, she knew, upset. He sniffed, and her next words were so quiet that they were hardly more than a whisper.

"But I hope so. Gods, I hope so…"

* * *

When Francis had been thirteen years old, his father had died.

The man had told him to _Go, go,_ had told him _don't come back_.

The man had told him he loved him, and Francis had been staring at his lips, reading them just as he had been taught, and couldn't even hear the words really over the sound of the sirens, the whirring of the machines that meant nothing but death and destruction and _pain_.

 _I love you,_ he had said, _I love you, I love you,_ and Francis had-

He had-

He had gripped his father's hand so tight, had shifted to make the switch of bow and arrows as easy as possible, even if he couldn't understand why his father was doing it. He had-

He had stayed silent, watched those words being formed and had stayed silent in return, even though every fiber of his body was pounding back _I love you, I love you, too._

But he hadn't said it, hadn't even signed it out with the flick of some of his fingers and he had to- he had to try- maybe it wasn't too late, maybe he could-

He had made them run, this ragtag group of survivors in a world gone mad and dangerous, in a world designed to kill and break and destroy. He had made them run, run until his small thirteen year old lungs had _hurt_ from the strain of it, and then they had gone down, down, down into the deep underbelly of the city, like rats in sewers, like specks of lights in the dark.

And then he had turned right back around and run back to where they had come from, had run and run and run and stumbled and fallen and picked himself back up and _ran-_

All that was left was rubble.

And-

His father's face, bloody and bruised, eyes staring and lifeless, and some part of Francis was telling him _He's dead, he's dead, scavenge the body and go, go, you're exposed you're gonna get yourself killed_ but everything else was screaming, screaming, _screaming,_ because _Get up, get up, when Bartons fall down we always_ get up, _c'mon Dad get up, e-_

 _I love you, I love you,_ and no sound was coming out, breathless words and shaking limbs and Dad wouldn't even be able to hear it anyways because his hearing aids were broken and because he was- _he was-_

Someone- Betty- had pulled him away. He hadn't been aware he had been screaming until she had hushed him, hadn't realized he was crying until she had wiped away his tears. He hadn't realized he was safe until someone had pushed soup into his hands, and even then he felt as if he had never been in more danger.

His fingers, shaking, middle and index, moved down to rest against his palm, again and again and again.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you-_

He had stared at his hands like they belonged to another body. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right again.

Betty had taken his hands, cupping them in her own. Francis couldn't hear her through the ringing in her ears, but through his blurred vision he could see the slow and careful signs her wrinkled fingers formed in the air between them.

 _Sometimes,_ Betty had told him _, you're just too late._

 _You're just too late._

* * *

"Torunn! Pym! You guys!"

Azari came skidding into the room, feet sliding on the carpeted floor and chest heaving as if he had sprinted several miles. His eyes were wide, and electricity was sparking around his fingers, which he kept clenching and releasing, as if straining to get rid of excess energy.

Torunn was on her feet in moments, and Pym was leaping up right behind her.

"What!?" she demanded, "'What is it? Have you found him?"

Azari shook his head, then nodded it, then shook it again.

"No- but we have a lead! There's a kid- Lucian- Lucian from the mansion- He's- He's come to the base. He says he knows where Francis is-"

But Torunn was already gone, the only sign she was ever there a rush of wind as she flies down the hall.

Pym and Azari traded looks, and then they started chasing after her.

* * *

Francis stared at the splotch of darkness that Lacey had kept looking at, because his gut was insisting that there had to be some reason why, and Francis always listened to his gut.

(His gut was also telling him that it was very, very hungry and thirsty, having not eaten or drinken anything in over twenty four hours, and wanted a sandwich and a tall glass of water. Sadly, this part of his gut was ignored, as it couldn't be helped.)

He watched, counted the seconds in his head, and waited. He let his eyes go glazed, and for anyone watching it would seem as if he was simply staring into the distance, zoning out.

But he wasn't, he wasn't, he was waiting for his moment, watching for his move, analyzing...

And then-

A blink. A flash of red, lighting up the darkness for less than a moment, a blink and miss it muted flicker that was so dull it was near impossible to spot.

A camera, then. Francis was expecting that, knew that he would probably be watched, as creepy as that was.

But then why was Lacey so freaked out, then? Why did she keep looking back? There wasn't any reason unless…

Unless…

Unless she thought it wouldn't be on. Unless she thought their conversation was private.

It suddenly struck him that Mr. Xenos possibly didn't know his son had gone missing, that Lacey was covering for him, making excuses and keeping her younger sibling safe from her father's wrath.

But if Mr. Xenos watched the video, not only would he know that Lucian was gone, but that Lacey had made moves behind his back.

Francis felt the blood drain from his face.

What would that mean for the kids? What would it mean for his _team?_ For himself?

Lacey's whispered words echoed back to him in his mind, making him feel as if his heart had sunk to his toes.

... _if_ _I can't get Lucian to follow the rules, he's going to kill him._

They were in danger. All of them were in terrible danger, and there was nothing Francis could do to stop it.

* * *

"Why are you here? How did you find this place? _Where is he-"_

"Torunn- stop."

Torunn spun around to glare at James, who glared right back with eyes that spoke of little patience and far too much exhaustion to be healthy. Behind the two of them stood Azari and Pym, shifting nervously as their two most hot headed warriors faced off.

In some regards, Francis had been a cooling temperament, being the voice of reason that Azari had so often tried- and often failed- to be. He was old enough and experienced enough that Torunn and James would listen to him, letting the high strung tensions release to the collective relief of all.

But there was no one to release the tension now, and Azari could feel it burning under his skin, making him spark. He bit his lip, raised his hand, let it drop to his side. There was really nothing he could do, here, except maybe pray…

Or…

He turned his gaze on the small figure standing in front of James and Torunn. He looked calm enough, but he was also anxiously shifting on his feet. Azari didn't blame him: he would be nervous, too, if he had to be the same room as the pair of heroes when they came to blows.

But with the pair of them fighting… well, it left Lucian wide open to talk with. And Azari was getting rather anxious to get their white-haired friend back where he belonged, just like the others were, and, well-

He supposed it couldn't hurt to try.

Carefully, he nudged Pym in the shoulder. The younger boy looked up at him, questioning, and Azari jerked his head towards Lucian, who was looking more and more frustrated by the moment.

Pym nodded, and the two of them cautiously inched their way around the room.

Silently, he placed a hand on Lucian's shoulder. The kid jumped, but Azari placed a finger to his lips and gestured to the kitchen around the bend. Slowly, looking mildly confused, the green-eyed boy nodded, and they all crept along until Torunn and James were out of sight.

Azari sighed.

"Sorry you had to deal with them: they're a bit… high strung, right now. And sleep deprived. And worried. And once they get going they can last for hours."

"One time we timed it! They fought with each other non stop for a solid three hours and twenty two minutes!"

Azari, without looking away from Lucian, stomped on Pym's foot.

"Hey! What was that for-"

He stomped on the foot again.

"OW!"

Giving up on Pym as a hopeless case in regards for subtlety and manners- and wondering why he even bothered trying in the first place- Azari turned his gaze on Lucian.

"We're all worried about Franc- Hawkeye. Is the reason you're here something to do with him?"

A nod, small and nervous, green eyes flicking back down the hall and then onto the two youngest Avengers once more.

The older boy very carefully resisted the urge to burst into questions. He actually _listened_ when Tony had given his instructions on talking to suspects and victims. He knew that interrogating him on the get go would probably only make him clam up.

So he resisted, tucking that terrified voice that was screaming at him that one of his pack was in danger, screaming at him that he should be _doing something._ Because Francis was his friend in ways that he had never quite managed with his siblings, another introvert in a world full of extroverts. Someone who didn't mind sitting in silence and reading a book, someone who didn't need to constantly be loud and touching and _present_ all the time. The closest Azari had ever gotten to that was James, and even then it had been a while since he had seen the elder teen actually relax, too weighed down by the rest of the world to sit still.

He resisted, because grabbing Lucian by the shoulders and screaming, "WHERE IS HE!?" wouldn't help Francis in any shape way or form.

He resisted.

Pym did not.

"It is!? Really? Why? What's going on? Why did you take him? Where is he? Can we see him now?"

"Pym, c'mon, man. I'm sorry, Lucian-"

"My dad took him."

Azari's head snapped up.

"What?"

Lucian bit his lip.

"My dad- he's- angry. He took him. He was the one who ordered the bombs, he was the one who sent the robots, and he was the one, who, uh, kidnapped your friend."

He looked down.

"Sorry."

Frowning, Azari shook his head.

"No, don't be sorry... It's your dad who-"

"But I helped! Me and Lacey- we both- Dad told us and we both-"

Pym was staring, Azari was staring. There was a sinking feeling in the older boy's chest as he thought about what the other was implying.

"You said that your dad ordered the bombs… but who was the one who carried the orders out?"

He was biting his lip again, and Azari knew the answer before the words even left his mouth.

"Me and Lacey. We did it. We set up the bombs. We also, we also helped kidnap your friend. I'm sorry."

And for a moment- for a moment Azari was angry. He was so, incredibly angry and he could feel the spark flashing off his tattoos, the way the electricity sang in his blood. He wanted to lash out at something, at some _one_ , and here was someone who had messed everything up. Here was someone who had hurt him, who had hurt his little family when they were all already so broken and tired and bruised.

Here was someone… and they were a kid. A tiny misguided kid who was obviously trying to do the right thing- _unless this was a trap…_ \- and get out of a bad situation. Still, still-

This kid had tricked him, had misguided them and stuck them on the wrong path to finding their friend. This kid endangered hundreds of lives when he had set up those bombs in that building...

Maybe the kid could sense his turbulent emotions. Maybe he was just desperate to make him see some goodness inside of him and his sister, but he burst out, "But I sabotaged them! The bombs! I- I cut the wires connecting them, made it so- made it so people could get out, so that she could get out-"

Pym piped up.

"You mean that- that your dad made you do something that would have gotten her killed?"

Lucian didn't answer, but his face was drawn, and Azari wondered how tired he must be, how many nights he spent awake in the dark, waiting for another order that would get him and his sister killed. He tried to imagine it, tried to imagine Tony telling him to get himself killed, telling Pym to get himself killed, and he couldn't, he couldn't.

Slowly, Azari reached out and placed a palm on Lucian's shoulder. It had always made him feel brave, when someone did it to him, made him feel not alone. Maybe it would do the same for this sad little boy risking everything to make things right.

"We're gonna get you out, okay? You and your sister both. I promise. Now, tell me where Francis is."

By the time Torunn and James had finished their argument, the two of them suspiciously wet-eyed, Azari had a crudely drawn map, a thorough description of Mr. Xenos' schemes as Lucian knew them, and a plan of action.

He just hoped that it would be enough.

* * *

"Tell me, Mr. Barton, would you like to see your friends alive?"

"Shut up," Francis snarled. And he meant it. He just wanted the voice to stop, to leave him alone. He was tired and hungry and thirsty and far too done with the world to deal with snide comments and sly threats. In his head, the mantra was repeating itself over and over again, _shut up shut up shut up shut up-_

He just wanted to go home. Was that so much to ask? He just wanted to go home, to hang out with James, play with Pym, read with Azari, and spend time with Torunn. He wanted his bed and his bow and arrows, wanted to go to sleep and never get up again.

Hell, he would even take one of the old hideouts. Anything would probably be better than this, at this point.

(That was an exaggeration. Compared to Ultron, this was nothing. This man was nothing. But, then again, with Ultron Francis had so little to lose, and now he had so much.)

"Well, Mr. Barton, if you _would_ like to see your friends again, you will step forwards and stand by the door."

"Piss off."

 _He doesn't have them,_ the archer thought to himself, _they're back at the base, they're safe, they're safe._

But everything else was screaming at him, because for how long?

Safety never lasted, not really. Not when it mattered. Francis had learned that young, and he would never forget it.

 _(_ There was a bowl of soup in his hands, trembling fingers signing _I love you, I love you,_ trembling fingers signing _Sometimes you're just too late_ , and the world would never be safe after that, and Francis would stop signing anything more than orders.)

There was silence, finally, and Francis closed his eyes and reveled in it.

There was silence, and then there were footsteps, someone whimpering high and pained, and Francis was on his feet and staring, staring-

Mr. Xenos stared back, something manic in the glint of his eye, something insane, and in his right fist he held Lucy by the hair, and in his left he cocked a gun and placed it on her temple.

"Now, Mr. Barton," and the voice still sounded like it was coming from everywhere from the sheer amount of focus Francis was putting on it, "I suggest you step forwards."

Francis did not look away from Lacey the entire time.

 _I'm going to get you out of this,_ he wanted to say, even as she stared at him with distrust, _I'm going to help you._

He stepped forward, and Mr. Xenos smiled.

* * *

"Down here, this way."

They were walking, making their slow, silent creeping way through the narrow hallways of the house. Lucian was slowly leading them, looking nervous and tensed, looking terrified down to his very bones. He breathed shallow and quick, but his face was determined and his feet were steady and soft on the carpet, and Torunn watched his careful steps and followed.

Followed, followed, if she closed her eyes she could almost imagine it was somebody else she was following, with stark white hair and strong broad shoulders and a smirking smile and eyes that sometimes looked around at them and the world they now lived in with this sort of quiet awe that made her heart _squeeze_ , made her heart sort of sing and her heart sort of ache.

Love hurt more than anything she could have ever known. It burned inside her, burned her with that fire of a million suns, and she thought she had understood love and all its intricacies when she was still tucked away from the world with Tony and her siblings, that she had understood all its little intricacies and all its little quirks, but she hadn't.

She hadn't

There hadn't been fear, then, none of this all encompassing feeling that the world could hold such cruelties and all of those pains could be directed at those she loved. None of that heart gripping terror, because she remembered Tony, blood dripping to the floor and screams echoing through the room, remembered his haunted look, his tired tired eyes, remembered thinking _gods when did he start looking so old,_ remembered thinking, _gods please don't die, please don't die, I'll do anything, g-_

It was funny, maybe, how you don't realize you would do anything for your family until every option is laid out, until you see every pain and every hurt, until you see every crack in their masks that say they are happy when really they are shattering.

Or maybe it was just sad. Maybe it was just sad how you don't realize how dangerous the world is and how fragile people are until they are already breaking.

Torunn gripped the bow in her hand and shifted the quiver on her back. They felt heavy, when truly she could lift hundreds of pounds more than their simple weight. She thought it was because her body knew that this weapon did not belong with her, knew that it belonged to Francis. She thought it was because every moment she was wearing it was another moment that he _wasn't._

Lucian had found it for them, tucked away in a false backing of a small shoe cupboard in the back of the house, along with the utility belt that James was currently carrying. He had smiled so guiltily at them when he had first given it, and Torunn had tried to force herself to think _it's not his fault_ even as everything else inside of her was screaming _how dare you, how dare you, how dare-_

There had been blood on the quiver. Just the smallest of amounts, nothing serious, but she swore that if anyone had made him bleed she would _kill_ them.

(A part of her, upon seeing it, had wanted to puke, because she didn't think she could stand to find Francis like they had found Tony, out of his head with pain and falling apart at the seams. She didn't think she could stand to see that sight again from anyone in her small family, not now, maybe not ever.)

She heaved a breath and let it all go with a silent huff of sound. And she followed, followed, followed, because every step was a step closer to getting her boyfriend back, a step closer to making him _safe_ , a step closer to bringing him _home_.

Step by step by step. That's how you did these things. Step by step by step.

"Freeze."

On instinct, Torunn froze. Pym carefully lowered himself to the floor, setting down the massive scanner he was holding. It was an invention of his own design- something that Francis had thought was so incredible when Pym had first revealed it, something Torunn hadn't even thought to be shocked of, because to her super genius was just how twelve year olds were- that was made to scan the area for small electronics that gave off similar energy readings to that of a video camera, and then manually hack into the video feed and loop it so that they could sneak past.

They had stopped an inordinate amount of times at this point, and it made her feel nervous, the fact that there were just _so many cameras._ She could feel their mechanical gaze pricking at her skin every time they snuck past one, even if she was invisible to its sight.

 _What would it be like_ , she wandered, _to grow knowing every single one of your moments is being watched?_

Her mind went back, back, to a life spent in a massive mechanical dome, caught like a fly in the trap. There were cameras, she knew, tucked away in the corners of the rooms and tucked in the hollows of trees and the leaves of bushes. There were cameras _everywhere,_ and Tony had monitored his little self made world with a sort of hypervigilance that sometimes worried her.

 _That's different,_ Torunn thought, _there was no choice, there was no choice, you do what you have to do in order to survive._

 _We were all just doing what we had to do to survive._

That was the thing about war, maybe. People fight and kill and make each other bleed, and all it ever does is get blood on the ground that needs cleaning up. There is power on the battlefield, yes, but it is a dangerous sort of power, one that is so easy to tip wrong.

She used to thirst for battle. She thought it would make her a warrior in her father's eyes, thought it would make her _worthy._ She fought for the fight, for the adrenaline rushing in her veins and the pounding rushing song singing in her blood.

She fought for that feeling of dangerous power, and now she looked back and sometimes felt so worried for the person she was, for the person she could be now.

Can you learn, from there? Can you grow?

She hoped so. _Gods_ she hoped so.

Her grip tightened on the bow in her grasp, released, watched as Pym let out a triumphant sort of inhale of a gasp, the sort he usually gave when he was about to shout in victory only to realize he was supposed to be silent.

She would fight for the sake of the fight no longer. She would only fight for those things worth fighting for, for her family, for her friends, for those in the world who couldn't fight for themselves.

Torunn remembered sitting besides a woman who was still shaking from a failed rape that Torunn had stopped. The woman's shirt had been torn nearly clean in half, and she had been staring at the ground, eyes determined and angry and _burning,_ even as her whole body tremored.

" _You'd think,"_ the woman spat as the Asgardian had sat silently besides her, " _you'd think that things would get better after all- that. You'd think that people would stop- would stop-"_

There hadn't been any words left to say, and the woman had buried her head in her hands almost angrily, and Torunn had taken off her cape and wrapped it around her shoulders. They had sat there in the quiet dark for an hour, then, until her girlfriend had managed to find them with her run down second hand pick up truck.

Torunn had sat there with that woman, seething, as she stared with a sort of unknown hatred at the knocked out man in the alley, the way he was curled into himself in a way that signified just where he hurt. She had sat and she had thought about the woman who shook and raged at a world that was so scarred and broken, thought about where this woman could have been if she hadn't been there, and she had thought _This. This is worthy, this is a fight I could go for._

And she did.

 _And she did._

And she was, walking down this silent hall with her silent friends. They were going to get him back. _She_ was going to get him back.

And nothing was going to stop her.

"Here," whispered Lucian, reaching up on his tippy toes- and it was weird, seeing someone in their little group even _smaller_ than Pym- and pressing a small smooth indent hidden among the intricate designs of a picture frame.

There was a mechanical hiss, and then a section of the wall slid silently open.

Something was cold and angry in her stomach, because she had been in this room, right where she was now, Francis had been _right there_ and she hadn't even known, hadn't done anything to help him and- and-

 _Focus, Thorsdóttir, keep your head. You're not out of danger yet._

This was not the time for such emotions. This was not the time for tears or frustration or sadness or pain. There would be time for that later, when they got him out, when he was _safe._

"He's down here, we just have to go down these stairs and head to the sub-levels."

They all nodded at Lucian's statement, but were trading nervous glances above his head. This whole thing spoke of a trap, but then what choice did they have?

Francis could be down there.

 _No,_ she thought furiously, _Francis will be down there._

 _He has to be._

And then they headed down, down, down into the darkness, and it almost felt like it was swallowing them up, the only light remaining being the pale blue glow from Pym's screen and the occasional spark from where Azari probably was, unseen and unheard except those little flecks of light, melting into the inky black like he was born to be there.

Torunn herself was feeling out of place, with her shining armour and bright blonde hair. She felt conspicuous in the dark, felt as if the whole wide world could see her if they cared to look. She didn't like going down so deep. Didn't like the fact that with every flight of stairs they walked down there was another level of concrete and metal and plaster before she could get to the open skies once more.

But it didn't matter. It didn't matter, because Francis was down there, and she would not leave him behind.

Not now. Not when they were so close.

Finally, _finally,_ they reached the bottom floor and Lucian led their cautious way out of the stairwell and into high arching chamber beyond. Everywhere she looked, Torunn could see massive mechanical beasts looking down all around them, their white frames casting slivering shadows and shining oddly in the pale blue lights. Part of her wanted to stop, wanted to back up. _Something's wrong,_ she wanted to say, but everything else in her was focused on following Lucian, focused on following his silent steps, because she could only follow, now, only follow, and hopefully it would lead her home.

They stepped out of the labyrinth made of rows of mechanical beasts all together, and as one they all simply _froze._

There was a glass container in the center of the cleared area, thick glass sides and thick metal frames.

Pym dropped his device to the ground and James reached out and pulled him into a hug, tucking his face against his chest, his own face grim and hardened and desperately worried.

Azari was sparking all over, enough that Torunn could see the way his shoulders were hunched, the way his arms were crossed over themselves and the way he was just _staring-_

Lucian was stepping forwards, again, again, mumbling, "No, no, this doesn't make sense, this doesn't make sense, he was supposed to be… he was supposed to be…"

And Torunn was collapsing to the ground on her knees, bow clattering against hard cement, wanting to scream, wanting to cry, wanting to rage at the world because how _unfair_ it was.

This couldn't be happening, it couldn't be, it couldn't be, it wasn't _fair-_

 _But it was happening. It was, because sometimes..._

There was a glass container in the center of the chamber, and inside it…

 _Sometimes-_

Inside it…

 _Sometimes you're just too late._

Inside it, there was nothing at all.

 _You're just too late._

 **...**

 ***Coughs***

 **Don't kill me?**

 **I SWEAR THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL NOT HAVE AS LONG A WAIT.**

 **In fact, I'm tentatively hoping to get it up sometime next week.**

 **As for this chapter...**

 **Did you like it? I hope so! I even tried to make my AroAce butt get into gear and write romance, cause that seems to be something lots of folk were requesting. :3**

 **DEDICATIONS!**

 **Many thank you's to my wonderful and beautiful followers and favouriters! You guys are truly amazing and I'm so glad that you have hopped on board- this admittedly slow going- fanfiction train! Taiski, Megan1722, duaa5141, TonyaJacex, and AlchemyWriter, you all deserve first class tickets!**

 **To my incredible, fantastic reviewers- some of which have been here from the very start- I am humbled by your presence in my life. Thank you, so so much. To Fangirlingovermarvel, Shiranai Astune, Tori, Tannerthemanner, Guest (1), AlchemyWriter, Guest (2), TheGravyKing, Guest (3), Kdnosnd, Ghost Guest, Guest (4), Guest (5), Romioanlo, and Guest (6), thank you SO SO SO MUCH.**

 **The fact that I have such a wonderful following for this story that is so sporadic and broken up in updating is super heartwarming. Thank you so much, guys.**

 **To respond to my guests:**

 ***I have the unamed guests in order of when the review was given, from oldest to newest. :)**

 _ **Tori:**_ Tori, have I ever mentioned how much I freaking love you? My goodness- you're honest and easy and enthusiastic response to my writing just- brightens my day. Every time. I'm so sorry for the long wait but I am so happy that you enjoy the story. I hope you like the Francis and Torunn interactions here! Whenever you find this fic, know that you really have my gratitude for being such a loyal follower.

 _ **Tannerthemanner:**_ I did keep it up! I just took a... year long... break? I'M SORRY. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

 **Guest (1):** Awww, thank you so much! I'm sorry that you welcomed me back only for me to vanish again. :( I hope you enjoy the Francis and Torunn moments though! And thanks for your lovely review!

 **Guest (2):** HERE'S YOUR UPDATE SORRY IT'S LATE! I have all your interactions and all the team feels, so I hope I've caught you up and left you ready for more! Thank you for your review!

 **TheGravyKing:** Hello there! I have your update with plenty of Francis and Torunn moments, but no combat - YET. Next chapter there's gonna be some fighting and conflict where things come to a head, promise. :)

 **Guest (3):** THE UPDATE IS HERE, WAY TOO LATE AND I AM SO SORRY. I hope you liked seeing more of Francis though! To answer your question- and having you ask me questions just makes me so excited really, like, wow, what an honour you want to know about me and my character depictions!- you now know that Francis has a pic hidden away of him and his Dad. However, right now I thinks he's still too nervous around his new found family to have sentimental stuff just laying around in plain sight, or even to really settle in and ask for images in teh first place. This will change, of course, as time passes and the fact that Ultron is really gone and the Avengers are really there to stay begins to stick in his mind, but for now, no. Also, have to thank you, cause like you totally gave me an idea! :)

 **Kdnosd:** AHHH- I'M SORRY PLEASE DON'T BE DEAD. Here's you're update?

 **Ghost Guest:** Thank you so much for your concern! Yes, I am alive, I just- everything was really a lot this past year, and I needed to take a break. Still, I hope to have more content this year and more writing in general, so there's that! Hope you enjoy the chapter. 3

 **Guest (4):** Twenty times!? That's incredible! I feel so awed you liked it so much! Here's your update, you glorious human you!

 **Guest (5):** I'm so sorry! I didn't and won't forget you guys, I promise! I just really needed to focus on my studies and my personal problems for a while. :) Here's the next chapter, my friend, and next one should hopefully come soon.

 **Romianolo:** Yes! I will never abandon a story. And if I do, I will inform people well ahead of time. Thanks for asking and hope you enjoy!

 **Guest (6):** FRANCIS IS STILL CAPTURED BUT PLEASE DON'T DIE. Hold strong! Torunn is coming! :) Thank you for your review and sorry for the slow update!

 **NOTE:**

 **If you wonderful guest reviewers would please put something unique instead of just 'Guest,' that would be really great! It's just easier for organizing and understanding who's who, and preventing me from responding to the same person more than once if they review twice. It also lets me know if you review to multiple chapters! You don't have to if you're not comfortable with it, of course, but if you would like to that would be really great!**

 **Anyways, next chapter to be posted hopefully sometime next week, and only a couple more chapters left to go! We're getting to the endgame here, folks!**

 **Thanks again for your patience and continued support. Sorry for the long author notes!**


End file.
